


Our Hands

by parttimehuman



Series: Our Hands [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beard Burn, Blow Jobs, Construction Worker Brett, Couch Cuddles, First Kiss, Flowers, Grocery Store, HAPPY HAPPY ENDING, Hand porn, Love Confessions, M/M, Nett, Phone Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Cuddles, Surprise - there will be plot, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, cold drinks, hot summer, shower shenanigans, thirst at first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-01 20:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parttimehuman/pseuds/parttimehuman
Summary: Nolan gets a little distracted when construction workers show up outside of the window of the store he works for. Especially Brett leaves a certain impression with him, and that's even before a particularly hot day where the guys turn up shirtless and Nolan decides to bring them cold drinks. But Brett's hands can do a lot more than looking strong and pretty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExtraSteps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtraSteps/gifts).



Usually, Nolan works his ass off for the little grocery store that pays him way too little. Usually, he keeps the place clean and puts away the stuff people pull out of the shelves and then abandon somewhere along the way to checkout. Usually, he’s focused on giving the right amount of change and putting the money bills in the register neatly. Usually, he smiles politely even at the worst assholes of customers and resists the urge to punch people who are a little too old and call him pretty a little too often. Usually, the moment he puts on the green polo shirt, Nolan switches into work mode and nothing can distract him. 

 

Nolan is having a not so productive week though when all of a sudden and without warning, construction workers turn up right in front of the large window in the front of the store, digging up the concrete, god knows what for. The problem is not the noise. Also not that he has to take a little detour around the corner to get to the entrance before his shift. And neither the dirt getting splattered on the store’s windowpane that he has to clean up. 

 

The real problem is that they’re hot. Incredibly hot, all of them, every single one. They look young, probably not much older than Nolan himself, and they’re ridiculously well trained. Nolan spends his days staring at muscles twitching beneath sweat-damp shirts, trying not to drool. It’s almost impossible. 

 

On the first day, he doesn’t know where to look. There are so many strong arms and broad shoulders, so many round and tight asses being presented to him as they bend down. Nolan is simply overwhelmed. On the second day, he realizes that his eyes keep drifting back to one of the guys more than the others. 

 

Sure they’re all hot, so fucking hot that Nolan would believe they’re filming a porn, hadn’t he actually seen them getting work done, but this one dude is just… indescribable. He’s ridiculously tall, so tall that Nolan is tempted to go out and just walk up to him to see how far he has to crane his neck to look him in the eyes. And oh boy, his eyes. Even from a distance that should be safe but really isn’t, Nolan can see them glowing, the color like melting amber, more breathtakingly beautiful than anything he’s ever witnessed before. 

 

On the third day, Nolan notices the sexy construction worker looking back at him for the first time. And the second. And the third… And eventually, he starts doubting that it’s completely random, and from then on, his heart is racing so wildly in his chest that he doesn’t believe he can survive the remaining six hours of his shift without a heart attack. Knowing that he’s doomed anyway, Nolan keeps stealing glances. And almost faints when the guy outside winks at him. 

 

Technically, it’s only a tiny blink of an eye, lasting less than a second, but what does it mean? What on earth could it possibly mean? Nolan definitely loses one or two hours of sleep over that question. On the fourth day, he’s tired but excited, giddy and nervous and impatient. And when the sun comes out and the shadows fade from the street outside, Nolan knows that he’s fucked. 

 

It’s still early in the morning, but the sun is burning down on the concrete, people seeking out little patches of shadow to stand in, the queue of customers at his register smells disgustingly much like human sweat, and even inside the store where the freezers and cooling shelves offer a certain coolness, the heat creeps in and settles in the air thickly, getting close to unbearable by the time it’s noon. 

 

While Nolan has expected the workers to take their shirts off eventually, both dreading the moment the last bit of his composure would go overboard and looking forward to it, he hasn’t anticipated for them to turn up shirtless to begin with. It’s a sight beyond comparison. Their upper bodies are all a little differently tanned, the skin glistening with beads of sweat. A few chests are smooth, others covered in a trail of soft looking hair. One of them has dark nipples that would have made Nolan want to lick them if he weren’t so far gone for this one particular guy out of the group. 

 

And exactly as expected, he looks absolutely stunning. His hair shines in a lighter shade of blonde in the sun, his skin appears almost golden. His arms are long and well defined, lifting heavy things with no apparent effort. The waistband of his underwear is peeking out from his pants, drawing Nolan’s attention to his narrow hips. His shoulders on the other hand are huge and covered in muscles, his chest looking like the perfect place to press one’s head against, his belly showing an eight-pack that Nolan has never thought possible for a mere human. Then again, he isn’t entirely sure the guy is a mere human. 

 

“You know what would be a nice thing to do?” Nolan’s boss Derek asks. Nolan jumps a little when he hears the low voice behind him. He’s been lost in his daydream about the golden boy. 

 

“What?” he croaks. He doesn’t even realize that Derek is talking about the guys working outside, bending down as they pull out pieces of pipes from the ground. 

 

“It’s hot outside,” Derek points out.  _ Incredibly hot,  _ Nolan sighs on the inside. “How about you offer those poor guys a cold drink on the house?” 

 

Nolan isn’t sure whether it’s the best or worst idea Derek’s ever had. On the one hand, his track record tells him he’s only going to make a fool out of himself, on the other hand, what’s an entire week worth of staring and thirsting and going home to take a very long and very cold shower every night good for if he doesn’t ever do anything about it? 

 

“We can’t let them get burned out by the sun out there, can we?” Derek interrupts his inner debate with a smirk. 

 

“No,” Nolan replies with a slightly trembling voice. “We can’t.” 

 

He stops by the mirror in the little restroom and tries fixing his collar and hair, but it’s no use, the blonde strands seem to have a mind on their own and his hands are too shaky to fight them right now, so Nolan goes to grab some cans of soda from the cooling shelf and makes his way outside into the blinding sun (and blinding beauty). 

 

“Hey,” he practically shouts to be heard over the humming noise of the jackhammer. He’s almost surprised when all the heads turn towards him at once, his heart racing like crazy with so much attention of so many hot people on him. “I… I was wondering if you guys were thirsty,” he stammers helplessly. Nobody can possibly be as thirsty as Nolan in that moment. “Here,” he adds with a nod towards his full arms, “have a cold drink.” 

 

“Oh wow,” one of the guys smiles at him with, “how nice of you.” He has piercing blue eyes and just the right amount of hair on his chest, a smile on his perfectly pink lips that could melt Nolan better than the sun. Definitely his type, but still not the one that makes Nolan’s heart skip a beat by reaching out for one of the cold cans and touching his arm for a second longer than necessary. 

 

“We were quite thirsty indeed,” the one with the pretty nipples and sexy beard stubble remarks with a cocky grin, “we were just talking about it, right Brett?” 

 

Nolan follows the guy’s mischievous look, although his eyes have been on the receiving end all along. Brett seems to be the name of the one he’s been having constant eye-contact with for two days now. The one with the eight-pack and the overall flawless body, with the golden eyes and the dark-blond hair, looking endlessly sexy even when single strands stuck to his sweaty forehead. The expression on his face is friendly and curious, but almost shy, his nod almost not noticeable. 

 

The moment gets a little awkward when Nolan has distributed the drinks and they’ve all thanked him politely. He’s done what he came out here for, but he doesn’t feel like he wants to turn around and go back inside right now. “So… what are you guys working on?” he asked to keep the conversation going, playing with his hands nervously behind his back, trying not to look Brett up and down too shamelessly. 

 

“Just replacing a few pipelines down there,” another guy replies, and then he explains a little further, but Nolan isn’t hearing anything while he watches Brett drinking, head tipped back, strong arm raised high, his adam’s apple bouncing in his throat as he swallows. Nolan wants to run his fingers over the sweaty skin, wants to offer his greedy hands for a massage, wants to lick the little drop of soda from the corner of his mouth. He wants the other guys to leave, wants the entire world around them to disappear immediately, needs to be alone with that gorgeous boy standing in front of him in all his half-naked glory.

 

“Cool,” he says, trying to sound casual in spite of not having followed the conversation at all. “I work at the store over there, in case any of you ever needs anything.” He might have said  _ any of you,  _ but his gaze is fixed on Brett. Nolan isn’t exactly the confident and direct type. He prefers staring at people until they ask him out over making the first step himself, but he can’t risk not seeing Brett again after they’re done with their work in front of the store. He simply can’t. 

 

“Pleasure to have met you, Nolan” the blue-eyed boy says with a nod towards the name-tag on his chest. Brett smiles and nods at him. He doesn’t say anything more, but Nolan feels like the silent conversation they’re having is way more intimate. It seems like a promise for more. He turns his head back around as he walks away and catches Brett’s eyes on him. This has definitely not been their last encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the week goes by with stolen glances and half-hidden smiles. Nolan brings the group of construction workers a few more drinks, they return the favor by looking endlessly hot while working shirtless. Whenever one of the cooled cans wanders from his hand to Brett’s, there is just a tiny little bit more touch than necessary, their fingers hesitating to let go of each other. It becomes a thing, just as the staring has, and at some point, Nolan wonders how visible the sparks sizzling between them must be. 

 

Another thing is for Brett to seek out the grocery store’s bathroom, just like the other guys do, but unlike his companions, Brett doesn’t simply use the toilet and lets a little water run over his hands, no. With great amazement, Nolan observes how thoroughly the other boy washes his hands and arms, up to the elbow, using a generous amount of soap and rubbing it over his skin until foam sticks everywhere. He takes his time, examines himself careful after he’s finished to make sure he’s properly clean. 

 

Nolan shouldn’t feel dirty watching another person wash their hands, but he does a little. Maybe because it looks so intimate when Brett does it, so much like a routine that belongs to his life, to who he is. Maybe it has something to do with the hands that are doing it. And the things they do to Nolan on the inside. 

 

Everything about Brett seems perfect to the extent of ridiculousness. His height, his toned skin, the pale blue eyes, the scruff covering his sharp jawlines. The soft curls of blonde hair, the deep voice, the muscles he has in places where Nolan himself has only skin over bones. But the most perfect feature about the guy, the one thing that drives Nolan absolutely mad with want is his hands. 

 

He doesn’t remember ever having a thing for them, but then again, he doesn’t remember ever meeting someone like Brett. It’s like the arms hanging from Brett’s broad shoulders are God’s ultimate masterpiece, but it’s not even about the strong biceps dancing beneath the tanned skin when he moves, it’s about the smoothness of his touches, how skilled it looks every time he does something. How Nolan doesn’t even have to try it to know that those arms are his safe haven. 

 

It’s about the thick veins standing out against the skin, a pale blue shimmering through it, especially on the back of his hands. It’s about the long fingers and the rough, calloused skin, the way the dirt sticking to them makes proof of his hard work. It’s about how soft the touches of his fingertips feel on Nolan, how elegantly he uses those hands to create, to build. Everything he picks up and holds, the soda can, a tool, his phone, it always seems like he puts all his care in having it in his hand, and Nolan is sure he’s never broken anything by accident. 

 

At the end of the week, Nolan has burned every inch of the living perfection in his memory, allowing him to sit at home and daydream about it. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander, back to the hot spot out on the street, back to shy smiles and quickly averted eyes, to a soda can wetting rough patches of skin with its condensed water. The heat rising inside his gut feels so much more intense than the sun did on his face. The Brett of his daydream takes a sip from his drink and rubs his thumb over his lower lip afterwards. Nolan decides to take a cold shower. 

 

The cold shower turns into a hot one, because where’s the point in pretending like the week spent with gorgeous Brett working and sweating right outside his window at work hasn’t left him horny as fuck? The images of Brett standing in the sun without the shirt on are not something he can simply push away in his mind. Or how he bent down. How he touched Nolan. And then Nolan touches the exact same spot on his arm, and even if he can never be as soft as Brett can, it does something to him, and no amount of cold water can keep his dick from getting hard.

 

Thinking of the way Brett washed his hands and arms, Nolan picks up the bottle body wash and tries something out. He spreads the cool get in both his hands, rubs it in to make sure his skin is as soft as it can get before he starts touching himself. He takes his time, goes as slowly as he can take it, just like he’s watched Brett do, drags his fingertips up and down his own arms at first, pretends it was Brett, closes his eyes and imagines him towering behind him.

 

It feels good to be touched like this, gentle and careful, with patience and loving care, but at the same time, it turns him needy, carving for more. So Nolan’s hands wander up to his shoulders, explore his own neck, the sensitivity of his throat, the feeling of an adam’s apple bobbing against a flat palm. He brushes his own cheek, and it almost feels stupid, because how desperate must he be, to not only jerk off, but actually caress his own face? Then again, it feels too overwhelmingly warm and soothing and good, he can’t help but move his fingers over every inch of damp skin.

 

Nolan waits until the water has turned hot, then stands under the water jet and tips his head back to let it soak his hair. He’s never focused so much on the feeling of the water pressure massaging his head, the warmth spreading through his entire body. He starts to feel like he’s been taking showers the wrong way up until this point. Nolan turns around and lets the water patter on his chest while he squirts a little bit of shampoo in his palm. He’d sell his soul for Brett to be standing in front of him right now, to hold his hand out and then gently turn Nolan around by the shoulder, to place a quick and unexpected kiss on the top of his head before bringing his hands up, to rub the shampoo in his hair with varying pressure of his fingers. 

 

A moan escapes his parted lips as Nolan imagines his hands massaging his scalp being Brett’s. He leans back, and for a second he believes he’s really falling into Brett’s arms, his shoulders hitting against a strong and smooth chest, believes that he only has to turn his face to nuzzle at the other boy’s neck. Of course, Brett isn’t really there, but Nolan still has his own hands and soap, and his imagination. He’s always been one of those kids that was said to have a “vast imagination”. He’s a dreamer, in just as much in broad daylight as in bed at night, and he has no difficulty picturing Brett now, feeling amazing from the touch of a pair of hands that isn’t really there. 

 

The water his hot on his back, the entire bathroom fogged up, just like his brain, and Nolan doesn’t bother trying to keep quiet as he strokes across his shoulders and chest, keeping his touches light as feathers, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips, covering the skin in soap and warmth and a shudder of anticipation. Nolan carries on like this for minutes, brushing his nipples ever so lightly, watching them growing hard, wondering what Brett would think of the sight. If only there was a way to find out.

 

Nolan becomes strangely aware of the body that he’s been carrying around all his life as he touches every last inch of it, his mind focused on the feeling of skin on skin and the little fireworks exploding at the nerve-endings. He doesn’t even care that he’s not as tall as Brett, or as ripped (as if that was even possible). Every touch feels good and warm and makes his stomach go fuzzy, and he becomes hyper-aware of the damage playing his guitar has done to his fingertips as they graze over his hip bones, and how much almost invisible, soft hair grows on him, and how damn sensitive the spot where his ass ends and his thighs begin is. 

 

Nineteen years of a life, and god knows how many showers taken, but there seem to be a million new ways to touch his own skin, to make his own body feel good and exciting, to get his dick a little harder than it’s been before, to make himself groan a little louder than he usually does when he’s all by himself. He isn’t making those noises to show anybody else he’s enjoying this, he’s making them because of how much he’s actually enjoying it, and there lies all the difference in there. “Fuck,” he mumbles as he cups his balls, the careful treatment so differently from what he’s used to. “That feels so fucking good,” he adds, simply because it’s true.

 

A few more moments of groping and caressing and feeling and trembling, and then some more body wash on his desperate hands, and then Nolan’s fingers stroke a gently line up his cock, making it twitch and leak pre-cum, the touch so soft that it’s hardly enough, but at the same time, It’s the best feeling he’s ever known. He leans back against the tiled wall, pretends that it’s Brett’s chest he’s leaning into, that the other boy is breathing against his neck and reaching around him, one strong arm wrapped around his torso to hold him upright, one hand exploring the hardness of his dick, tracing the vein running down its side, tugging at the foreskin with great caution, pulling it down and back up, a thumb swirling over the sensitive head, spreading the beads of pre-cum, teasing, earning curses that are prayers at the same time.

 

Nolan’s legs feel weak and wobbly as the hot water is splashing onto his chest and running down to where his fingers wrap around the base of his cock, trying to go slow, but it’s getting harder by the second, his breathing heavy, his shoulders pressed against the wall, his hips pushed forward to meet his touches. “Holy shit,” he whines when he finally starts moving his fist up and down around his cock, his pace steady but torturously slow, every fiber of his being tingling.  _ Patience _ , he imagines Brett whispering into his ear.  _ Let’s enjoy this. _

 

With his eyes closed and his head thrown back, Nolan can pretend like he finds himself in Brett’s beautiful arms, and the hand pumping his dick feels like it’s big and strong, the rough patches intensifying the friction, the palm soft, the fingertips endlessly careful. Soon, Nolan is tip-toeing in a desperate attempt to get closer, to get more, to chase an orgasm that’s rolling towards him more slowly than usual, but will hit him with much more force once he’ll get there. 

 

“Brett,” he whispers, bucking his hips into a tight but soft fist, dreaming of sunlight and sweat-damp skin. He bares his neck, wishes there was someone to kiss it, but not just anyone, only this one special boy will do. “Touch me,” he carries on, then lets his free hand wander across his stomach and chest again, playing with his nipples, moaning, wondering if Brett would like to hear him like this, to hold his shaking body, to push it towards the edge that he can see clearly in front of his as he fastens the pace. 

 

“I’m gonna cum,” he presses out, his body straining towards his hands, the touches so sweet, so torturously close to satisfying, but not quite, not all the way he needs. Almost. Almost. If only Brett was really there behind him, breathing against his skin, holding him. Would he want to see Nolan come all over his hand? Would he like the smell and the strangled cries that Nolan is making? Would he say something in this very moment? Something like  _ come for me, baby _ ?

 

Nolan doesn’t know, but he doesn’t have to, only has to keep his eyes shut and use his imagination, only has to concentrate on the feeling of his dick slipping in and out of his fist, only has to move a tiny little bit, but almost not at all as his balls start twitching and his breath hitches, a shudder washing over him, his hips pushing up and forward, his mind lost to Brett, completely lost, his racing heart stolen with no hope of return, one single word falling from his trembling lips in a delirious ramble, a name, over and over again.

 

Nolan comes hard, harder than he expected, shoots his load over his hand and stomach and is almost sad when the water washes it away immediately, can’t help but think that it was for Brett, and Brett didn’t even get to see it, and all of his mind is with the gorgeous tall boy as he tries to calm down, riding the afterwaves of his climax, letting the hot water relax him, catching his breath, knowing that he’s ruined for good. 

 

Nolan doesn’t even know whether Brett will still be there working in the street the next week. He has no idea if he’ll see him again. But one thing is perfectly clear in that moment. If he does, he won’t let the chance slip. He has to do something, has to say something. Anything. He needs to hold those magical hands as much as he needs to suck in the next breath. The weekend consists of sleepless nights and extensive showers, of daydreams and beautiful fantasies, but when Monday comes, fantasies are not enough anymore. By far not enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Sundays are made for doing nothing. In a world where those days are the only ones not drowning Brett in work and stress, he sometimes feels like he needs Sundays more badly than he needs air to breathe, but this Sunday brings something new. Instead of lying in bed all day and watching netflix, eating instant ramen and wondering where the day has gone when an entire season is watched, instead of giving his mind a break, thoughts are running wild in Brett’s head. 

 

He doesn’t want to be in his own bed alone. He doesn’t want a day off, he actually wants to go back to the corner of the street right across from the grocery store, wants to feel the pretty light green eyes on him, the stare tingling between his shoulder blades, wants to catch the beautiful boy’s eyes and watch him blushing, turning his head away as if there’s any point left in pretending.

 

Pretending like Nolan hasn’t been watching him since the morning they started working on the pipelines outside of the store. Pretending like Brett hasn’t done the exact same thing in return as soon as he got over the fact that it’s really him the cute guy is checking out the whole time. Pretending like the cold drinks are served of pure goodness of Nolan’s heart and nothing else. Pretending like it’s really necessary for Brett to wash his hands in the little bathroom at the store numerous times a day. Pretending like they’re not drawn to each other like magnets. Pretending like it’s not meant to be.

 

Brett’s mind is restless on this warm summer day, it keeps wandering, serving him with the most breathtaking images, pictures of Nolan smiling shyly, of the pale skin and the freckles covering his face, outshining the stars on the night sky, and this certainly can’t just be Brett’s own biased opinion. He’s reminded of the pink lips and how Nolan tends to bury his teeth in the lower one, leaving it a little chapped and swollen, making Brett want to bring his fingers up and pull it out from his bite. He thinks of the blonde hair falling into the shimmering eyes and the little shake of his head to get it out of his vision. 

 

There’s something special in the way Nolan cranes his neck to look up into his eyes, Brett thinks, and there’s something special in the way his hands move, like he makes every utterly normal thing into some sort of art. Brett can almost feel the warm smoothness of their fingertips brushing against each other, the touch so brief and hesitant that it almost hurts to think about it. It simply wasn’t enough, but now that he has the time, now that Brett feels his body melting into the mattress on his bed, he tips his head back and closes his eyes, sighing deeply, allowing himself to get lost in a dream of what if.

 

What if Nolan had touched him a little longer? What if he’d been brave enough to talk to the boy a little more? Ask him for his number? Ask him out on a date? What if they’d stopped trying to hide their attraction to each other? What if he’d taken Nolan’s hand in his own like he’s spent the whole week fantasizing about? What if they’d kissed? Jesus, if only he’d gotten to kiss those perfect, perfect lips.

 

Would they be spending this Sunday together instead of apart? Would there be a chance for Nolan to be right here, maybe right in his arms? Would they be lying in his bed together, Nolan’s body draped over his own, head resting on his shoulder, hand over his heart, a leg swung over his thighs? It almost hurts that Nolan isn’t actually there, but Brett exhales deeply and concentrates on what he’d be doing if he was, on the warmth that spreads in his body as he imagines tightening his arms around Nolan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing the top of his head, being together, kissing and kissing except that they’re more smiling than actually kissing, being happy. 

 

It’s not that Brett is unhappy on his own. He’s got work, and the boys, and a garage full of projects waiting for him at night, he’s got the Sinema to go to when he needs to blow off some steam, he’s got Lori and Liam to remind him he really doesn’t look as good as all the tipsy boys and girls make him believe. He’s got all he needs to get by, and he’s never felt like something’s missing. But that was before Nolan came along. And that’s exactly what’s missing now, or rather who. 

 

If only he could, Brett thinks as he sinks deeper down into the huge pillow in his back and the fantasy in his head. If only he could, he would thread his fingers through soft strands of blonde hair, would scratch his fingernails over Nolan’s scalp carefully, would look down on him and watch the shadows his lashes would be throwing on his cheeks. He would stroke Nolan’s back up and down, would shower him in light touches and kisses. Brett remembers Nolan’s polo shirt sliding to the side over his shoulder a little, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone. 

 

He would kiss the boy’s lips red, would pull him closer until they’d melt into each other, he’s sure Nolan would taste fantastic. He would try his best to be soft and sweet and gentle, touching Nolan’s delicate body the way you’re supposed to treat real art, would contain himself as well as he’d be able to, for as long as it would be possible, and then he’d pray for Nolan to tell him yes, would be waiting for the green eyes to go soft and give him his go.

 

And then he’d make sure that Nolan knows exactly how perfect every damn inch of his body is to him.

 

Brett’s eyes fall open, although of course, he doesn’t have to look to know how hard he is. There’s a huge bulge straining against the grey pair of sweatpants, and a small wet spot where pre-cum seems to have soaked the fabric. “Fuck, Nolan,” Brett whispers, knows that the other boy can’t hear him, but he still has to say his name, it still has to be acknowledged that it’s Nolan who’s doing this to him, who’s leaving him out of breath and with his entire body tingling and twitching. Craving. Starving.

 

“I need to touch you,” Brett mumbles, but all he can do is put his hands on himself, push his shirt up while stroking up his stomach and across his chest, letting his hands warm his skin, wishing for it to be Nolan. He’d sell his soul to have the pretty boy in his arms, to simply take him by the hips and listen to the surprised noises Nolan would make when he’d place him on his lap, looking up at the beautiful perfection. 

 

Thinking about Nolan works better than any porn in the world ever has, works better than most of the actual sex he’s had, is the most special and wonderful thing he’s ever experienced, but at the same time, it leaves Brett so damn desperate that he could cry with the frustration of it being just a fantasy, just his own hands undressing him slowly and caressing every inch of newly exposed skin, just his own moans filling the air of his bedroom, just his own voice whining pleas and prayers as he spreads his legs and drags his fingers from the inside of his knees to where his ass begins, over and over again, so slowly that it’s almost not bearable, his body trembling in anticipation, the image of Nolan biting his lip and then licking over it vivid in his mind.

 

A shudder goes through him when one finger brushes over his entrance ever so lightly, almost not touching him at all, creating close to zero friction, making him go crazy with want and need, causing him to arch his back off the mattress, to lift his hips and bring them closer to where he imagines Nolan sitting between his legs, one hand teasing him by playing with his ass, pulling the round globes apart and kneading the flesh, dragging blunt nails over the sensitive skin, cupping his balls and releasing them again, leaving him a whimpering mess.

 

“Fuck,” Brett curses when he remembers that he’s run out of lube at some point that week from jerking off a little more than usual since his first encounter with Nolan. “Fuck,” he repeats, but in an overall different tone when he realizes that he still has a mouth and a tongue to do the job, and then he’s sucking two of his fingers between his lips, pretending they’re a little shorter, a little thinner, a littler softer, not as rough and damaged as his own, licking and sucking with passion as he pictures Nolan leaning down over him, his pretty mouth contorted in a groan from nothing more than Brett’s lips around his fingers. 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Brett whispers after he’s released the two fingers with a wet plopping sound, not satisfied with the available vocabulary to describe Nolan and the things he does to him, thinking that it can’t be right to call him something other people have been called as well, thinking that nothing in the world and beyond, nothing, none of the things he’s never seen or heard of, none of them come even remotely close. 

 

He imagines Nolan blushing, a gorgeous deep pink spreading beneath the freckles on his face, and Brett realizes he has to think of so many more things to compliment the other boy with before they meet again, before he finally gathers up the courage to talk to him for real, to  _ tell him.  _ But right now, there’s no time for that. There’s a body tensed up with excitement and lust and overwhelming need to be touched, there are two fingers wet and waiting, his legs spread, pre-cum pooling between his abs, his breathing ragged, everything on the inside burning. 

 

His head falls back with a loud moan escaping his parted lips as he rubs both pads of his fingertips over his rim, creating friction, but by far not enough, teasing him until he can’t take it any longer and pushes inside, both fingers at once, all of the patience he wanted to keep suddenly gone, just like the control over his quivering body, one hand wrapped tightly around the base of his aching cock while the other one slides in and out of him, stretching him open so damn good, stroking his inner walls, moving in maddening circles, brushing his prostate just enough to make his sob out Nolan’s name. 

 

“Holy shit,” Brett moans, his fingers moving in and out of him in a steady rhythm, lifting his legs up high, thinking that Nolan surely would appreciate the view, his only wish being that he actually could, but the thrusts of his fingers against his prostate will have to do for now, and it’s not like it isn’t working, like he isn’t pushing himself closer to the edge by the second. “Nolan,” he repeats over and over again. “Nolan, you’re making me feel so fucking good.” 

 

It’s a pair of pale green eyes that finishes him, bright and open and looking deep into him, all his secrets exposed to them, all of Brett’s guards down, every attempt of protection abandoned, because where’s the point? What is there to lose if he doesn’t get to have Nolan in the first place? He imagines the boy watching as he comes, shoots thick spurts of cum across his chest without really needing to touch his dick much, cries out in pleasure and desperation, needs an eternity to calm down, whispers Nolan’s name so many times that it starts tasting like something that’s always been there on his tongue, leaving behind the thick sweetness of honey, and just a splash of lemon, like the one time Nolan put half a slice in Brett’s coke. 

 

When Brett regains at least some of the control over his brain, he knows that this boy has ruined him, has changed his life and the way he looks at it, has changed what it means and what it’s good for, where it begins and where it ends, where it hopefully leads. He’s panting and smiling dumbly, a mixture of happiness and fear settling inside his gut, a need to get closer to Nolan, the knowledge that there’s no way around it, as there shouldn’t be, and the anxiety that comes with feeling things more intensely than before. Nolan is not a thing he’s going to give a try. Nolan is not a fling or a hookup or an acquaintance or even a friend. Nolan is special in every way possible. It’s him or absolutely fucking nobody.

 

Brett is still in some sort of trance when he answers his ringing phone, doesn’t know who’s on the other end of the line until a few moments later, when he places the deep voice to his best friend Liam, and then he needs another minute to process what Liam is telling him. 

 

“What do you mean, we’re not going back?” he asks, his voice so high pitched that he hardly recognises it. “There’s a fucking hole in the ground!” 

 

“I know,” Liam replied, way more collected than Brett. Of course, what would Liam have to freak out about. “They’re sending someone else to finish that shit up. They specifically requested us for the project over in Roseville.” 

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Brett whispers. It has to be a joke. He can’t hear Liam laughing though. “Please, Li,” he begs, “tell me that you’re joking.” 

 

“Not this time,” Liam answers. He doesn’t have to ask why Brett is reacting this way. He knows exactly what’s been going on the entire week. He knows that this is just the wrong time for Brett to leave town for a couple of weeks, no matter how well this special project pays off. He knows exactly that Brett’s not just crushing a little bit. God, he’s in so deep. 

 

And know he has less than sixteen hours to decide what to do before they have to leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?


	4. Chapter 4

Usually, Nolan wakes up in the morning with a groan. Usually, he wakes up on Mondays with a long and particularly complaining groan. He hates the sound of his alarm, and he hates for the weekend to be over. He hates for it to still be dark outside when he leaves for work, the early shift starting at six, the most inhumane part about it being that there’s literally no place in town serving coffee that early. On this Monday morning, things go a little differently.

 

On this Monday morning, Nolan awakes from a wet dream and with an achingly hard dick, spends twice as long in the shower as usual and still manages to get ready before the alarm rings. For once, he has enough time to have a coffee at home before getting on his way, and for once, he can’t fucking wait to arrive at work, only to stay close to the large windowpane in the front and watch out for his favorite construction worker to turn up. 

 

He’s not going to keep making the same mistakes as all of the previous week long, Nolan tells himself. He’s not going to avert his eyes immediately every time Brett looks at him. Hell, everybody in- and outside of the store knows that there’s a tension between them, there really is no point in trying to hide it. And after this weekend with all its cold showers and all the hot ones, with his hands slipping beneath the sheets at night and Brett’s name falling from his lips god only knows how many times, Nolan really doesn’t want to keep playing this game anymore. 

 

He wants Brett like he’s never wanted anybody else before and he knows it, and if there’s the slightest chance of Brett liking him the same way, he’s well willing to take a little risk to see where this thing can go, how far he can take it. Nolan stops in front of the mirror in the hallways on his way out, throwing himself a weird look, surprised by how unfamiliar his own face looks with that dorky grin he simply can’t resist, and he knows he’s giving Derek and all his co-workers the perfect reason to make fun of him, but he doesn't even care. That’s how far gone he is. It’s truly amazing. 

 

The walk to the store happens practically without time passing, his mind lost in thoughts about broad shoulders and strong arms lifting heavy things, about thick, blue veins running along forearms and skilled hands moving with a breathtaking elegance, about soft touches that haven’t lasted long enough so far. Nolan stands in front of the sink where he’s watched Brett clean himself up so many times as he changes into the green polo shirt he has to wear at work, but it doesn’t matter if it’s the tiny bathroom or the cooling shelf with the soda cans or the sunrays falling on the street outside, Brett has captured his mind, his body and soul and there’s nothing he can do to change that. 

 

“Whoa,” Derek makes as he first sees Nolan, “well that’s some creepy shit going on there.” 

 

“What?” Nolan asks, looking down at himself, following Derek’s finger that’s pointed right at him. 

 

“Your face,” Derek laughs, shaking his head as if it’s so hard to believe that Nolan can actually smile. Well, to be fair, it probably is, at least this early in the morning. 

 

“What?” he laughs back. He can’t even be mad. He simply isn’t in the mood. “Am I not allowed to be happy?” 

 

“You are,” Derek replies with a genuine smile. “You so are. Which reminds me…-” he trails off as he fumbles with the pocket of his jeans, then pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and holds it out to Nolan. “This note was taped to the back door this morning. It’s for you.” And with that - and a knowing grin - Derek turns around and leaves him alone, alone with his racing heartbeat and fingers too clumsy to unfold the little paper note as quickly as he wants to. 

 

The first thing Nolan sees is his name, written in tiny but all capitalized letters and a chaotic handwriting, the first  _ N _ looking nothing like the second one. Then he realizes that there’s a number at the end of the note, and his hand moves to cup his phone in the pocket of his jeans by instinct, making sure that he’s got everything he needs to call Brett. It takes a moment for the entire message to make sense in his head, and Nolan laughs, actually laughs out loud at six in the morning at his workplace as if he’s gone insane now, but it’s too hilarious, all of it. 

 

Nothing about Brett’s perfectly beautiful hands and the ugly handwriting before his eyes matches, and yet it makes perfect sense somehow, and the fact that they’ve been silently staring and not talking at all for an entire week doesn’t exactly explain why he now has to call the other boy “as soon as you get this”, but on the other hand, he understands all too well, his own patience running thin as well, and then it’s just too damn adorable for a big guy like Brett to actually leave a note for him, god knows at what time of the night he came to the store for that, and having the piece of paper in his own hand, having physical proof of there being something, whatever it is between them, it does things to Nolan on the inside, and the only thing missing right now to top the ridiculousness of the situation off is him squealing like a girl. 

 

His hands are shaking as he dials the number, and Nolan doesn’t know how he’s supposed to speak with the dumb grin plastered across his heated face, but he presses the phone against his cheeks, listening to the beeping sounds, his entire body tingling, his teeth biting his lower lip and the already half-destroyed skin around his fingernails, a bad habit he’s trying to get rid of, but can’t, and certainly not right now, not when he’s as nervous as never before, waiting for Brett to pick up and let him know that it’s not just a cruel joke. 

 

“Nolan?” Brett asks immediately, his voice low and deep and a little sleepy, but sounding excited. 

 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Nolan croaks, realizing that they’ve never exchanged more than a few words, that whatever this conversation would be about, it’s their first real conversation to begin with, and that already means a lot. 

 

“Good,” Brett sighs, and it seems crazy to Nolan, simply insane to think that maybe Brett’s been as nervous about this as he was, except for longer, since he’s been waiting for this moment. “I just needed to talk to you,” Brett adds seriously, and Nolan wonders why, why now, why he couldn’t wait until later. 

 

“What’s up?” he wants to know, genuinely curious. 

 

“I’m not going to see you today,” Brett says after a little pause, waiting a moment before he explains, giving Nolan’s heavily beating heart time to sink in his chest. “I’m actually not going to see you for a while. We’re actually on the way to Roseville for a special work project. It’s going to take a couple of weeks.” 

 

“Weeks?” Nolan repeats weakly, unsure whether he’s heard correctly.  _ Weeks?  _ As in more than one? 

 

“Yeah,” Brett confirms, breaking his heart a little, his smile fading from his face. It’s too early. Whatever they’re doing, it hasn’t even gotten the chance to really start. It can’t be over already. It simply can’t. “Just didn’t want you to think I was just gone. I… I would have loved to come back to you this morning.” The sincerity in his voice hurts, because this only means the chance was there before it got destroyed by life. 

 

Now he doesn’t know what to say. It seems strange. They haven’t really talked when they could have, and now they’re on the phone and what Brett just told him sounds like he likes him, but they’re going to be apart for weeks and what even does that mean? 

 

“I’m sorry,” Nolan presses out after a moment of silence, “I don’t really know… what to do with this information.” 

 

“I get it,” Brett replies seriously, “listen. I’m an idiot for not asking you out when I had the chance. I wanted to, but I just… I don’t know, I was nervous I guess. And I didn’t expect this to happen. I thought I’d have a lot more time to stare at you. But you have my number now, Nolan. Use it, please. Because there’s no way I’m not taking you on that day as soon as I come back. If you let me, of course.” 

 

Nolan is speechless. Not out of sad desperation this time, but because this is a lot more than he’s expected to get from Brett so soon. 

 

“If you want that,” Brett adds quietly. “If you want me.” 

 

Is that guy kidding? “I do,” Nolan breathes into the speaker, there’s barely any voice in his words, but Brett understands him perfectly. 

 

“Can I call you again tonight?” Brett asks, the smile on his face audible in his question. 

 

“Yes,” Nolan smiles back, and he seriously doesn’t know how he still hasn’t suffered from a heart attack through all of this. 

 

“Awesome,” Brett says, “it’s really nice to hear your voice.” Nolan almost laughs, he hasn’t even said that much, has simply been reacting to what Brett has been telling him, but it feels good to hear it, feels like there finally is someone who likes things about him that others have never even taken the time to notice. 

 

“I can’t believe you did this,” Nolan responds. “I can’t believe you left that note just so I’d be able to call you.” 

 

“I couldn’t just leave you, could I?” Brett answers. It’s the moment where Nolan knows he’s lost. He hasn’t just dreaming this thing up, and he’s not the only one who’s been obsessing over the weekend, and even if they’re going to be apart before even being together, it won’t stop them from growing closer, and he’ll be carrying his phone with him wherever he goes from that moment on, and if he’s lucky, like really fucking lucky, one of those upcoming days he’ll fall asleep with Brett’s voice in his ears. 

 

***

 

As hard as it is to be apart from Brett for so long, thinking about him every minute of every single day, touching himself whenever he’s got a moment of privacy, dragging out his showers, when Nolan lies in bed at night, talking to Brett over his headset, it almost feels like it’s enough. It’s not, of course, by far not enough, because all he can think about with Brett’s deep voice echoing through his head is how his breath would tickle on his skin if the other boy was really there whispering into his ear.

 

It’s torture on the one hand, but in another way, it feels like the distance between them gives the two all the time to get to know each other. They talk for hours without interruption, and sometimes Nolan looks at the clock and can’t believe how late it’s gotten, can’t believe how easily they move on from one topic to another, how much they seem to have in common, how hard he can make Brett laugh with his awful jokes that everybody else always tells him to stop making, how interesting everything Brett shares about his life seems to him.

 

It turns out there’s a lot more to the guy than strong arms and a perfectly tanned eight-pack. Nolan is deeply impressed. Brett tells him about how he dropped out of school to provide for himself and his sister, how he ended up as a construction worker, how he enjoys the hard physical work and building something with a result that’s visible in the world. He talks about the pieces of furniture he restores in in garage, sends Nolan a few pictures of a bookshelf he’s made out of scrap metal and a coffee table combining different dark woods. Nolan falls in love with the image of Brett working on these pieces for hours, lost in his own world, creating something that isn’t for work, that he rarely sells, that he simply loves doing. 

 

Nolan tells Brett about his attempts to write a little music, and at some point, he lets Brett convince him to play a short piece on his guitar, and even though he’s still a little too self-conscious to sing the lyrics along to the melody - the lyrics that tell a love story - this is still the most he’s ever shared with anybody about this part of his life, and it means more to him than he can say when Brett lets out an amazed “wow” after he’s stopped playing and tells him how beautiful it was. 

 

They spend so much time on the phone together, at some point it feels like they should have told each other everything, but with every topic there seems to come up a new one, and it always goes on like that, and sometimes they’re not really talking at all, just listening to the other one cooking or cleaning up, making brief comments to make them laugh. Brett doesn’t mind Nolan listening when he talks to Liam and the other guys, and Nolan kind of gets to know them a little bit, too, although it feels weird with them in a way that it doesn’t when it’s just Brett. 

 

“You really do like me, huh?” Nolan whispers as he lies in bed one night, his eyes tired and falling shut every few moments, the rest of the world long asleep around him. “You’ve wasted so much time talking to me.” 

 

“So much time,” Brett replies, “and not a single second of it feels wasted.” 

 

“You’re making me blush,” Nolan says, because it’s true and it’s embarrassing, but it still doesn’t seem right that Brett can’t see it. 

 

“Don’t bother asking me to stop,” Brett answers with a chuckle.

 

“I wasn’t going to,” Nolan smiles. It feels so good, the heat in his cheeks and the warmth inside his belly. 

 

“Hey, sweetheart, are you asleep?” Brett asks after a minute of silence. 

 

“Almost,” Nolan replies, but all he can think about is that Brett just called him sweetheart. 

 

“Me too,” the other boy tells him as Nolan settles against the pillows comfortably. “Sweet dreams,” he adds. 

 

“Good night, Brett,” Nolan says before he falls silent for the night, but he’s still listening when Brett speaks again. 

 

“Soon, sweetheart,” he promises, “soon, you’re going to fall asleep in my arms. I can’t wait to finally have you in my arms. I’m telling you. I’m dying to hold you.” He continues like that for a while, whispering soft promises as Nolan falls into a deep and content sleep, not knowing what exactly he’s dreaming of, just that it makes him feel safe and protected, that it smells like wood and lemons and soap, and peace settles over and inside him, letting him rest for hours before a noise wakes him up.

 

It takes Nolan a moment to come to fully come to his senses, and then to figure out that he’s still on line with Brett, and then to realize that it’s Brett who’s making those sounds. It sounded like he was in pain at first, but now that Nolan listens closely, it really doesn’t anymore, it’s actually quite the opposite. He covers his mouth with one hand as he listens to the moans coming from the other boy. Nolan has been making the same kinds of noises too frequently during the last weeks to be mistaken in this. They’re clearly sounds of pleasure.

 

Nolan knows this is the moment where he should hang up. He’s been asleep for hours, so Brett clearly doesn’t expect him to listen, or maybe the other boy has simply forgotten that they’re still on the phone. Either way, it feels a little wrong to bite his hand to quiet himself and strain his ears for the soft and low moans that go straight to his cock, but more than that, it feels better than anything he’s ever known before, and there’s no way he’s ending that call, absolutely no fucking way. Nolan’s free hand finds its way beneath the sheets and into his pajama pants, reaching for a dick that’s growing harder by the second, trying to set a pace around it that matches the sounds Brett is making.

 

It goes on like this, Brett giving no other apparent sign from his end of the line than his moans, but those are getting louder and more needy, and Nolan pumps his dick as he listens, trying not to make a sound, but then Brett attacks him with a low mumble of his name, and then another one, and it drives Nolan crazy to hear it, and before he can think better of it, he responds to the whiny “Nolan” with a just as desperately groaned “Brett”, and all of a sudden, the moaning stops. 

 

“Nolan?” Brett’s sleepy voice asks.

 

“Yes?” Nolan replies, suddenly very insecure about what exactly is going on. Why does Brett sound so confused? So surprised? He’s the one who started all this! Or…

 

“Brett?” Nolan says. “Did you just wake up?” 

 

“Yeah,” Brett croaks. “Why? What’s happening?” 

 

Oh boy, Nolan thinks, how on earth is he going to explain this? His finger hovers about his phone for a second, the panic rising inside him telling him to take the easy way out and just hang up, but he knows he can’t do that to Brett. He doesn't want to do that to Brett. Plus, there’s still the chance that Brett doesn’t actually mind this. Maybe there even is a chance to get him to moan like that again. Maybe, maybe..


	5. Chapter 5

"Shit," Nolan mutters, desperate for the right words to explain this, but his brain won't provide him, and he's scared. Scared that he's freaked Brett out, that he's about to scare the other boy off, scared that now they'll never actually meet again. "I'm so sorry," he presses out, "I didn't realize..."

  
"Hey," Brett interrupts him, his voice calm and low, still a little drowsy, but so damn soothing. "Nolan," he says, and it sounds like so much more than a name, he's not just trying to get Nolan's attention, he long has that, he's telling him something, and there lies a lot of meaning in it, and Nolan isn't entirely sure if he understands, but he listens.

  
"Sooo...." Brett drags the word out for a few seconds and Nolan's heart hammers against his ribcage. If he's getting a bad reaction now, he might as well shoot himself. It's one thing to be a stupid teenage boy with no plan for the future and a little too low standards, but he won't ever frogive himself for fucking things up with Brett before those things can really even start. He holds his breath until Brett finally continues, saving is poor, turned on soul.

  
"I'm not sure if this is awkward now," Brett begins. _Pretty sure it is._ "But I'm going to have to say it. Because I'm lying here in bed and you're still on the phone which is wonderful, and I don't know what just happened but I know what the situation is over here and by that I mean that I'm hard."

  
Nolan almost chokes as he hears it. How can Brett simply say things like that? Just say them right into the speaker for Nolan to hear them? He can't believe it's happening. He can't believe how wildly his heart is beating, how heavy the breaths he hears coming from the other end of the connection are. He can't believe that his body's reaction to this embarrassment is making his dick swell even more, his hand still wrapped around it inside his pants. The next seconds decide.

  
"Nolan," Brett almost whines. Again, it's more than a word, a name. It's a question. A plea. A prayer. A dream about to either become more than just that or be over. "Say something," Brett whispers. He wants to. So badly. All he's afraid of is saying the wrong thing.

  
"Me too," Nolan whispers, unsure whether Brett can even hear him over the phone, but then there's a little sigh, and exhale that he would interpretend as relieved if he was his normal self right now, and so he goes for it, decides to take the chance and tries to keep his voice steady as he says, "I'm hard, too, Brett. I woke up to your moans and I didn't know what was going on over there, but then you said my name and it... did things to me."

  
"Good things?" Brett wants to know.

  
_If only you knew._

  
"Amazing things," Nolan admits, tugging at his dick carefully. He's glad that Brett hasn't hung up on him so far, but what now? What happens next?

  
"Do you want me to do more of those things to you?" Brett asks directly. Nolan wishes he knew where to take that kind of boldness from.

  
It's like his entire body answers the question for him, his hips lifting off the mattress, straining towards the fist he's made around his cock, his balls twitching in anticipation. Brett wouldn't have to ask if he could see him right now, but Nolan reminds himself that they're only on the phone, and so he has to let the other boy know with words, and it's beautifully frustrating, and so, so fucking exciting. "Please," he whimpers before he hears a gasp from Brett.

  
There's a second of silence and a rustling of sheets, then a chuckle. "Nolan," Brett says again, and god, does it sound dirty, more like a groan than a word, and Nolan bites his lip in order not to cry out at this alone. And then the real fun begins.

  
"You know, I'm really not surprised that this happened," Brett tells him in a low tone that sends shivers down Nolan's spine like nothing ever before. He's alone in his bed, has nothing more than Brett's voice in his ears, but with his eyes closed and his hand down his pants, it's endlessly intense, his hearing sense heightened, simply because his body knows it's important right now.

  
"It seems like I was dreaming about you," Brett continues. "Again. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about you since we met?"

  
Nolan swallows. He's had Brett and his perfect hands on his mind all the time. He's had so many wet dreams, can't even count how many times he's watched the water jet in the shower wash his cum off his stomach. He's almost sure his neighbors are already wondering who "Breeeeeett" is. But that's different, right? That's just him. Just stupid, horny, teenage Nolan fantasizing about a guy with an eight-pack and magical hands who's overall too hot to be true. It's not like he's ever dared to hope for Brett doing the same thing. And yet, the thought turns him on so much that he feels like exploding right at the spot.

  
"Tell me about it," Nolan mumbles. He doesn't actually mean for Brett to tell him about it, but that's exactly what the other boy does.

  
"I swear to god, wherever I look, I only see you," Brett says, "it's like you've cast a spell on me on that one morning when I first saw you. And you looked away immediately, but I could see you blush, and the corner of your mouth just went up and it was like the sun was shining from your face, but you looked down and it was almost like you were smiling for me and now all I want is to see that again. Or maybe not all but it's definitely top of the list."

  
"There's a list?" Nolan asks, overwhelmed by so much honesty, so many complimentary words that don't seem to be made up just to seduce him. They sound so different that the fake promises he's heard before. Everthing is different just because it's Brett on the other end of the line and Nolan feels like he's falling in love for the very first time in his life. Maybe he is.

  
"Oh, there is one," Brett confirms, "and it's a long one. It has all the things on it that I like about you. Although like is probably not the right word here."

  
It's too much for Nolan to think about that this is actually something someone is really feeling for him. It doesn't seem real, doesn't sound like it can be. It's too fucking good, right? Or maybe he just needs more confirmation... "Can you give me few examples maybe?" Nolan asks, blushing and biting his lips again.

  
"Would you like that?" Brett asks teasingly. "To hear me talking about you? About what you do to me? What I do to myself when I think about you?"

  
"Fuck, yes," Nolan blurts out, sounding far more needy that he wanted to, but what can he do about it? There's this gorgeous boy and everything about him is perfect, but the most perfect thing is that he thinks the same about Nolan, and even though that's simply too much to get through his head, but he wants to, needs to hear more, so he tries to give something in return, shows Brett how strongly it's affecting him. "I could listen to you talking forever," he says, "your voice is killing me. I don't think I've ever been as hard as I am right now."

  
"Fuck Nolan," Brett gasps, "you can't just say stuff like that. You're gonna be the end of me, I swear. I bet you're looking beautiful right now. With those incredible eyes and the adorable freckles and I bet you're biting your lips again, and I bet your hair is all messy and fuck, I'd sell my soul to see that right now."

  
"You know, I could always send you a picture," Nolan replies before his brain can stop his lips from moving.

"Oh my God," Brett gasps. "You would actually do that?"

Nolan could reply, but he's already holding his phone up high, trying to catch his face and the messy mop of hair in the best light he can, taking a few snaps, trying out whether it's too much if he bites his lip in the picture. Maybe it is, but he doesn't have it in him to care right now.

"You're looking beautiful," Brett says as Nolan is still swiping through the couple of shots he's taken to decide which one looks the least stupid.

"You haven't even seen it yet," he chuckles in response.

"So?" Brett laughs, "I don't have to."

"Fuck, you're making me so weak," Nolan breathes out, exhaling deeply and hitting send on the picture he's chosen. He feels so damn giddy he could scream into his pillow, he actually bites down on it while waiting for Brett's reaction, something inside him fluttering, his skin tingly. He's so far gone for the boy on the other end of the line.

"I'm making you weak?" Brett asks. "Fuck, have you seen yourself? Right now, it almost hurts to be here and so far away from you. I just wanna be able to touch you."

  
"Well," Nolan says cockily, not knowing where he's taking the boldness from. "You might not be able to touch me but I am."

  
He hears a groan from Brett and movement. "Tell me more about that," Brett pleads, "please, I'm so hard right now, you can't leave me hanging here."

  
"Me too," Nolan responds, "I just woke up to your moaning, can you imagine what that does to a guy? And I tried to be quiet, I really did, but I just couldn't keep my hands out of my pants and well, here we are."

  
"So, you're touching yourself, Nolan?"

  
"Yes," Nolan confesses, "but I wish it was your hand."

  
"Are you naked?" Brett wants to know.

  
"Are you?" Nolan asks back instead of answering.

  
"Maybe," Brett chuckles.

  
"Oh my god," Nolan breathes out. He knows what Brett's pecs and abs look like and where the veins stand out thickly from his arms. He can remember the delicious little buds of his nipples and the thin trail of her from his navel downwards in vivid detail, but it's something entirely else to imagine that body in a bed instead of out in the street working, to imagine that even if he can't technically see it, it's exposed only for him.

  
"I'm not naked," Nolan tells Brett, "not yet."

  
"Fuck, sweetheart," Brett moans into the speaker, "if only I could, I'd be taking every last piece of clothing off of you right now. And then I'd touch every last inch of skin I can reach. I want to feel you in my hands so badly."

  
Nolan almost faints. He thinks about those hands, about how big they are, about they rough spots and the smooth skin. He takes his shirt and pants off hastily and tries to use his own hands to do what Brett describes to him. "God Brett, that feels so good," he lets out after a few moments.

  
"Holy shit, Nolan, are you doing it?" Brett asks.

  
"Yeah," Nolan confirms, "keep going. Please."

  
Brett's voice is low and raspy and endlessly sexy as he continues. "Close your eyes, baby. Let me touch your beautiful face. Let me rub my finger over that gorgeous lip you've been biting. And then stroke down your neck. Do you like being touched there, Nolan?"

  
"Yes," Nolan answers truthfully while his hand still lingers on his neck, his fingers rubbing lightly. "It's very... sensitive."

  
"In that case," Brett declares, "I wouldn't be just touching your neck, I'd be kissing it. I wanna suck on it until you squirm beneath me. Do you think that could happen?"

  
It's practically already happening, and Brett isn't even there, not even in the same town, but what the hell, his voice is doing things do him, and Nolan's own hands can definitely drive him crazy like this. "In fact, I know it," Nolan presses out.

  
"Wonderful," Brett comments. "How about I get to touch a little more of you? I'm sure you look absolutely stunning. I'm sure your skin feels incredible beneath my hands. I'd love to watch you lose your mind as I stroke down your sides. I'd hold you by the hips so that you can't do anything about it when I drive you crazy with my mouth on you."

  
"Fuck," Nolan mutters, quickly getting rid of his underwear, lying back down and imagining everything Brett tells him, his hips actually trembling, but not bucking into the air, as if he was actually restricted by Brett's strong hold on him. "I'm fucking dying to have your mouth on me, Brett." Pre-cum is pooling on his stomach, his dick is aching for touch.

  
"It would be my absolute fucking pleasure," Brett says a little out of breath, "I bet you taste fantastic. God, how I'd love to kiss my way down your body right now. And then look up into your eyes to see how far gone you are."

  
Nolan moans loudly as if to give a demonstration.

  
"And then - fuck, Nolan - then touch your cock."

  
Nolan groans even louder as his dick twitches at the mention. He puts his fingers on it, doing what he wants Brett to do so badly that it's becoming painful.

  
"Baby," Brett says, "do you want me to make you feel good?"

 

"Feel good?" Nolan repeats, "You mean better than this right now?"

  
"I mean as good as I can from over here," Brett replies.

  
"Fuck yes," Nolan answers without so much as a second of hesitation.

  
"Good, then close your eyes and borrow me your hands, will you?"

  
"Done," Nolan says, holding a breath full of anticipation and lust.

  
"Relax your body for me, sweetheart," Brett begins. "I like it when I can see you melting into the mattress, when your body becomes all warm and soft in my hands. Except for your cock of course. Because you're hard. So fucking hard. I can't believe how pretty your dick is. How good it feels. I just wrap my hand around it and enjoy how amazing it feels."

  
Nolan does as he's told and takes his hard dick in one hand, willing himself to wait for Brett to tell him to move, his entire body writhing. It's by far the hottest thing he's ever done with anybody, and Brett isn't even there.

  
"Mmmm," Brett makes, growling a deep noise of satisfaction. "I want to eat you up, Nolan. I tighten my grip around you, and then I start moving slowly, so slowly. Up and then down again. I can't help but stare at it, how perfectly your cock glides in and out of my fist. It makes we weak when the tip peeks out on top, when I can see how swollen and ready it is. I can barely stop myself from licking it."

  
"You're killing me," Nolan moans. He wants to move faster, can almost not resist the urge to fasten his pace, but he's not the one in charge of this right now, he just does what Brett wants him to, and so he keeps teasing himself, using the pre-cum leaking from his tip to smoothen the jerks around his cock.

  
"Not yet," Brett replies with an audible smirk, "but I'm getting there. I keep pumping your dick, keep the rhythm steady, listen to your moans, but with my other hand, I stroke across your chest."

  
"Oh fuck yes," Nolan whispers, arching his back and straining towards the touch, his nipples growing hard from the prospect alone.

  
Brett catches on on his enthusiasm immediately. "I brush you nipples, all carefully, one first, then the other. I like it when I make them hard. " Nolan whimpers. "I like it when my touches make you all desperate for more," Brett adds. "And I can't resist you. I can't deny you. I simply can't. You're too gorgeous. So I give you more. I rub your nipples and lean down to put my lips on them. And my tongue. I want to hear you beg for it."

  
"Please," Nolan whines immediately, not even thinking about his reactions anymore. His body is all tensed up, he's so close, but he knows he won't come until Brett wants him to. "God, Brett, you're making me feel better than ever before. I cannot believe you. I just want you to make me come."

  
"You want to come for me, sweetheart?" Brett asks sweetly. "Well, if that's what you want I guess I have to go a little faster, baby. Have to move my fingers around your beautiful cock, have to enjoy those pretty noises coming from your lips. Wow, so hot, Nolan. You're so hot. So good for me. My beautiful, beautiful boy. Show me your neck, baby. Let me kiss you."

  
Nolan bares his throat and moans. "Fuck," he mutters, "fuck fuck fuck." His curses are barely even words, just tiny whispers, he'd afraid he could miss something important.

  
"I go faster," Brett rasps into his ear, moaning almost as loudly as Nolan himself now, "a little harder, give you all I have, kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so bad."

  
"Me too," Nolan pants, "fuck, Brett, me too. I'm close."

  
"You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart," Brett praises. "Let go, baby. Come for me. Show me what you've got for me. I want to lick it all off of you."

  
"Jesus, Brett," Nolan presses out, his fist barely even moving around his cock, practically just shaking as he's already falling, slowly at first, and then hard, so fucking hard.

  
With a strangled cry, Nolan shoots his load across his own chest and stomach and the fingers that are still pressing down around his nipple. Even through his heavy, ragged breathing, he can hear the other boy moaning his name. _Fuck_ , he realizes, they just came together.

  
For a few moments, there's nothing but faint whimpering and panting as they're both trying to calm down.

  
"Holy shit," Nolan then remarks, "that was..." There's not even an accurate word to describe it, at least not one that he can think of in that moment.

  
"Yeah," Brett agrees, "I know."


	6. Chapter 6

Brett is sure that Liam and the others are getting a bit sick of him constantly checking his phone for new messages and disappearing to bed as soon as he’s taken a shower after work. The thing is, he can’t help it. It’s always possible that Nolan has sent him yet another one of the adorable selfies or written a cute text for him, and he simply isn’t willing to miss any of that. 

 

Of course, Brett knows that he’s a hot guy. He knows that people check him out all the time while he’s working, and he’s definitely enjoyed one or two flirts at a workplace before, but he also knows that this is different. Nolan is not just the cute guy from the grocery store. He doesn’t just want to play a little staring-blushing-hiding-staring game and then take a mental picture for his wank of the night. 

 

What Brett wants from Nolan is absolutely everything. He wants to hear him talking, even if it’s just over the phone, wants to make him laugh, no matter how flat and stupid his jokes have to be for that to happen, wants to know everything about the other boy. He wants to listen to him humming along to the sound of his guitar, wants to hear about his day, wants to tell him all his secrets. 

 

It takes Brett a while to understand this, simply because it’s never happened before, not to him, not to Brett Talbot with the eight-pack and the smile that could have been on any commercial for toothpaste. Except now it has happened. Brett is in love. 

 

No matter how crazy it sounds, and for how little time they’ve known each other, no matter how far apart they’ve been for most of said time, not counting all the touches that haven’t happened yet and all the kisses that he’s still dying to have. None of it changes the fact that he wants Nolan, that he loves him. 

 

Brett can practically hear Liam’s eyes rolling inside his head as his friend watches him pressing the call button yet again, getting comfortable on his bed as he waits for Nolan to pick up. They’ve moved on to video calls by now. 

 

What greets him through the phone screen is the most adorably beautiful face in the world, shiny strands of blonde hair peeking out from underneath a snapback, green eyes shining like some sort of magic, the freckles covering Nolan’s nose putting the stars at sky to shame. 

 

“Hey,” Nolan smiles. The angle is a bit awkward, but nothing can stop that boy from looking absolutely gorgeous. “Sorry, I was kind of in the middle of eating.” He holds up a piece of pizza for Brett to see, then bites down with a satisfied moan. 

 

“Sounds tasty,” Brett laughs. He could watch Nolan munching on his pizza for the rest of his life. 

 

"It is," Nolan smiles, kind of speaking with his mouth full, but not even that makes him look any less pretty. "I've starving during my shift today, but it was too busy to take much of a break, and anyway, I always eat the same stuff from the store, and I'm getting a little sick of that lately."

 

"Pizza was the perfect choice then," Brett replies happily.  "Any new fun stories from work?" He loves those stories, although he has to admits it's more about the way Nolan tells them with a mix of sarcasm and slight disgust and amusement than about the crazy stuff that seems to happen at the grocery store sometimes.

 

"Oh no," Nolan mumbles, "don't get me started."

 

"Oh yes," Brett laughs into his phone. He can't even tell if Nolan is rolling his eyes or trying to seduce him. "Tell me, sweetheart. I want to know everything about your day."

 

"Believe me," Nolan begins, "you don't want to know  _ everything _ .  Well, let's see... A nice story first." Brett doesn't know what Nolan is about to tell him, but by the smile spreading over his pretty face, he can tell that it really is a nice story. "There's this one lady," Nolan continues. "She's been coming to the store for as long as I work there. And she's always really friendly, you know. Most people are polite, they say please and thanks and all, but then there are some who actually look you in the eye when they greet you. People who give you a genuine smile, you know. She's one of those. It's just.... when you deal with a couple of hundred customers a day, and a lot of them are rude, and the majority is simply not anything towards you, well it can kind of really make your day when one person comes and is as sweet as her."

 

"Yeah, I can imagine," Brett says, although maybe he can't. He doesn't know what it's like to have Nolan's job, to smile all day and be friendly to assholes. He doesn't know what it costs Nolan.

 

"Anyway," the other boy smiles, "so today, this woman comes into the store, and when she sees me, she smiles, like, with all her face, and then she just walks straight up to me, and she tells me that she used to do her grocery shopping at a different store, but now she comes here, simply because she likes to see me, because apparently my weird face makes her happy or something. Can you believe that?"

 

"Yes," Brett answers truthfully. It's adorable how oblivious Nolan seems to be. "I can. In fact, I agree with that woman one-hundred percent."

 

"Brett," Nolan sighs, "you need to stop that. You're making me blush."

 

"If you think that's a good argument to make me stop, you're very wrong, baby," Brett points out.

 

"You are the worst," Nolan says, but his eyes and the pink of his cheeks betray him.

 

"Maybe so," Brett replies, "but not for you."

 

"No," Nolan sighs as he sinks back against the backrest of the red sofa Brett has seen so many times by now, "not for me."

 

For a moment, they remain silent, but silence between them has long stopped being awkward. They know that they both need time to look at each other, to take the other in, to get it through their heads that this is really happening, that they're talking to each other on a daily basis, that each other's face is what they spend the most time looking at, that they really fall asleep and wake up together, that in spite of all the distance between them, there is a connection that neither of them can deny, one that's only waiting to be lived to the fullest.

 

"It's only two more weeks," Brett whispers.

 

"Two weeks?" Nolan repeats. "That is so much too long."

 

"I know," Brett nods. "But we'll make it, right? And I don't have the tiniest doubt that it will be so worth the wait to have you in my arms, Nolan."

 

The blush on Nolan's cheeks deepens, and his lips spread into a beautiful smile before he answers, "me neither."  His skin looks so smooth and delicate, Brett just wants to run his fingers over it. He wants to take that gorgeous face between his hands and look at his, not through a phone screen, but right into the pale green eyes, wants to feel Nolan's breath on his own skin, wants to inhale the other boy's scent, wants to know what the pretty pink lips taste like. He wants to kiss Nolan softly, wants to push the snapback off and thread his fingers through the blonde hair, wants to feel Nolan, wants him alive and warm in his arms.

 

"You need to stop looking so fucking perfect, sweetheart," he says into the speaker. Why does is voice suddenly sound so... different?

 

Nolan catches on immediately. "Or else what?" he asks with a cocky grin.

 

"Nolan," Brett growls, "I'm warning you." Not that he really wants Nolan to stop the suggestive arching of his eyebrow, or the playing of his fingers with the collar of his shirt. Oh fuck. Or the licking of his lips.

 

"And I hear your warning," Nolan smiles. "But somehow I find myself still hungry. I think I'm in the mood for dessert right now."

 

Brett can't help the moan that escapes his lips. His dick twitches with interest at Nolan's words. It's not his fault that everything the other boy does seems to turn him on. "I'm... fuck, Nolan, what are you doing?" For a moment, all that Brett can see on the phone screen is the ceiling in Nolan's room, and when the other boy comes back into view, it is with a bare chest and his teeth digging into his lower lip. "Oh God, seriously?"

 

"You see," Nolan starts talking, his voice a little lower than usually, "I might have a little problem over here. Well, technically, not that little. I was wondering if you could help me out with that."

 

Brett swallows thickly. Sure, they've come together over the phone more than once by now, but it was never like this, never while actually being able to see the other, and it never started with Nolan being so bold and direct. He can't even say how much it turns him on. One look down at the tent in his sweats and Brett knows he's not going to deny Nolan anything. "What can I do for you tonight, baby?" he asks, earning a satisfied grin in return.

 

"For now," Nolan says, "you don't have to do anything. I just want to show you something."

"And what might that something be?" Brett asks, turning onto his side and placing his phone against a pillow so that both his hands are free. He has a feeling he's going to need them. Still, he resists the urge to reach down his pants. For now.

 

Nolan blushes hard before he even starts speaking. He sounds a little nervous, but it doesn't seem to stop him from saying what he wants to.  "I want to show you what you've done to me, Brett. Ever since we met, I imagine it being your hands when I touch myself. " Brett watches his full lips moving until his hand appears on screen, all pale and wiry and so fucking pretty that Brett wants to suck those fingers between his lips. He sees them moving down the side of Nolan's neck and tracing his collarbone, then dropping and drawing lazy circles over his chest.

 

"I can't even imagine what it would feel like if you were really the one touching me," Nolan carries on, "but I try. I really try. And look what happens when I do that."

 

Brett does look. And what he sees makes him whimper and squirm in his bed. Nolan drags his fingertips across the smooth skin around his nipple, far too slowly for Brett's taste, but after a torturous moment of heavy breathing and teasing, he brushes one of them over the pink bud and lets out a whine as a reaction, the camera close so that Brett can watch his nipple growing hard beneath his touch.

 

"Fuck," Brett moans. His own fingers twitch with an urgent need along with his cock. How he wishes he could be with Nolan back in Beacon Hills right now. How he wishes he could be the one to cause Nolan to make those little noises of pleasure. How he wishes he could lick the pretty nipple he's seeing, could suck on it until Nolan would cry out and pull his hair.

 

"Oh, that's just the beginning," Nolan informs him, "because guess what? Every time I think about you, I get hard. And I think about you a lot."

 

Brett whimpers and bites his lip. Of course, he knows exactly what Nolan is talking about. He knows what it's like to have only that one special boy on his mind. He knows how hard it is to find sleep at night when all your dreams are about him. He knows how strong the urge to wrap your fingers around your cock is when you think of him. Knows how much it hurts to be separated. Knows how beautifully a need like that can tear you apart.

 

"Show me," Brett begs. The thought of Nolan feeling the same way about him does indescribable things to him.

 

Nolan chuckles and moves the camera further down, capturing the stroking of his fingers down his stomach, going down and then a bit up again, killing Brett softly with anticipation. The camera then stills and remains focused on the thin line of soft-looking, light-blonde hair building a trail from his navel downward while Nolan's hand disappears further down, down where the fun parts are, down where his touch elicits a loud moan that goes right through Brett and to his cock.

 

"Oh my god," Brett groans, "baby, you're killing me."

 

"How badly do you want to see my cock, Brett?" Nolan asks a little out of breath.

 

How does one even put that into words? "So badly," Brett presses out, his own hand cupping his clothed dick but still resisting the urge to move around it, if barely. "I want to see your cock so badly, sweetheart, I'm about to cream my pants, but I'll hold back for you. Please, let me see what you've got for me. Please, Nolan." In another life, Brett would have been embarrassed of the desperate whine that was his plea, but not in the one where he has Nolan naked on the screen of his phone.

 

"Fuck," Nolan moans, "you're making me wet." And then, as if to prove it to Brett, he lowers the camera of his phone and presents a swollen, pink tip of a true beauty of a dick to Brett, little pearls of pre-cum glistening on top of it, making Brett's mouth water.

 

"Jesus, Nolan," Brett gasps at the sight. "How am I supposed to survive those next two weeks if I don't get to put my mouth on that pretty dick?"

 

"You think my dick is pretty?" Nolan asks a little shyly, which Brett finds absolutely adorable.

 

"The prettiest I've ever seen," Brett confirms with an eager nod of his head. The dick in question is being moved a little by Nolan's fingers, the foreskin being tugged back and then up again moving tightly around the delicate tip, showing it off perfectly, leaving Brett a panting and writhing mess.

 

"I'd say the same about yours," Nolan replies, "but I haven't actually seen it yet, have I?"

 

"Oh no," Brett smiles, "if only there was something we could do about that..."

 

"If I asked you really nicely, Brett," Nolan begins, still stroking his dick while talking, "would you get naked for me? Would you let me see you?"

 

What an utterly ridiculous question that is. As if Brett could ever deny Nolan anything.  "Try me," he grins, playing along.

 

Nolan's face appears back on screen, his hair a little messed up the snapback gone, his eyes shimmering a little darker than before, his lips wet and slightly parted. Brett wants to eat him up before he even opens his mouth. "Brett," Nolan says, "please. I've been waiting for weeks now, and I'll wait for two more, but I'm getting a little impatient. You're too hot, okay? You've gotten under my skin. And I literally cannot wait for you. I want you so much. Please, give me something for now. Let me see your dick and I'll suck it as soon as I can."

 

Never in his life before has Brett pulled his pants down as quickly as in that very moment. "I can't help it," he presses out as he re-positions himself on his bed and brings his phone down over his crotch, "I simply cannot say no to you." He leans back against his pillows and spreads his legs, holds out the phone in front of him so that he can see Nolan's face turning red as his dick comes into focus, and then he has to close his eyes for a second and relish the sound of the other boy's moan.

 

"Holy shit," Nolan breathes out, "did I make you this hard with my words?" He licks over his lip and earns a little whimper from Brett.

 

"Your words, your beautiful face, your perfect body. Your cock."

 

"Fuck," Nolan moans, "give me a second." The view gets a little blurry as Nolan sets his phone up somewhere in front of him and settles back onto the couch, almost his entire body now visible, only his spread legs cut off, but Brett has enough difficulties deciding where to look already. Nolan is sitting there with his dick in one hand, leaned back against the cushion and stroking across his chest with the other hand, his soft thighs framing the perfect picture. "Good?" he asks, but  _ good _ is hardly the right word.

 

"You have no idea how perfect you look," Brett says, holding his phone up high so that he can sink further back into the pillows and still catch himself from his head to his dick in the camera. "I want to lick you up and down, Nolan. Fuck, I want to worship every part of your flawless body. I want to kiss you so badly right now."

 

"Me too," Nolan smiles, his fingers squeezing tight around his cock. "Soon," he promises. "For now, I want to see you come for me."

 

"Oh fuck!" Brett moans. He's hard and practically throbbing in his hand, absolutely ready to let go and push himself over the edge with just a few jerks of his hand, and now that Nolan's asking for it, he can't stop himself any longer.  He makes a fist around himself, although it's hard, even with hands as big as his, and then he moves up slowly until he can rub his palm over the sensitive tip and feel it leaking another drop of pre-cum. He wants to screw his eyes shut from the overwhelming sensation, but he can't, not with Nolan mirroring his movements.

 

"How does it feel?" he wants to know, because in some way, he's doing this to Nolan, he's showing the other boy how, is setting the pace, is taking the lead, and Nolan is following him with a shiver and a plethora of whispered curses falling from his lips.

 

"Fucking amazing," Nolan answers without hesitation, his eyes dark and glistening, his body a little shaky already.

 

"Yeah," Brett nods, "fucking amazing." They go from  _ fucking amazing  _ to  _ jesus fucking christ _ to  _ oh my god what is this magic, I've never fucking felt like this before _ with just a few more simultaneous strokes and loud moans. Brett's body takes over from his shut off mind as a tingle goes through his legs and he quickens his pace, changes the rhythm, watches Nolan doing the same. They're both panting and shaking, Nolan's chest heaving and sinking heavily, his mouth open and never stopping the noises from coming, one hand digging into the skin on his chest with blunt fingernails.

 

"Brett," Nolan warns, "you're gonna make me cum."

 

Brett whines. Not  _ I'm gonna cum _ , no.  _ You're gonna make me cum _ . And so he does. "Nolan," he says, jerking his dick yet a little faster, limiting his movements to the part right beneath the tip, flicking his wrist and feeling himself losing control. "Sweetheart," he adds, "baby. Come for me. Say my name again and I'll  come for you too."

 

"Fuck," Nolan sobs as his entire body tenses up, his thighs beginning to shake uncontrollably. "Brett," he moans loudly, right before his ass lifts up off of the sofa and his fist stills, the shaking of his hips the only stimulation he still needs to come undone, whispering another "Brett" as white spurts of his cum are shot across his chest.

 

Brett allows himself to let go as soon as he sees and hears it, milking his dick with slow and careful strokes while Nolan simply trembles as they both ride the wave of their joint orgasm.

 

"That was by far the hottest thing I've ever done," Brett tells Nolan. It's not the high of his climax speaking. It's the absolute truth.

 

"Two weeks, Brett," Nolan replies breathlessly, "we'll test that theory in two weeks."


	7. Chapter 7

_ We'll test that theory in two weeks. _

 

Brett did just come, yes, but the thing about Nolan and his sinful voice and his pretty flushed post-orgasm-face making promises is that it's starting to make Brett insatiable. He watches the other boy lying back down against the cushion of the red sofa and close his eyes with a content sigh, the corners of his pretty mouth slightly perked up. He looks happy, and the thought that Brett is the reason is touching him in more places than just his dick.

 

In that moment, Brett wishes for nothing more than to be able to wrap his arms around Nolan and pull him against his chest, feel him breathing against his skin and put his hand over his heart. He wants to share this moment of intimacy properly, not just through the screens of their phones, which is better than nothing, but still painful considering that they could be in each other's arms instead.

 

Nolan looks so damn pretty as his eyelids flutter closed and his long, light lashes throw shadows over his cheeks. That boy is just a little too beautiful to be real, but all it makes Brett want to do is touching him, tracing the delicate features with his fingers to make sure he isn't just a dream. They stay like that for long moment, simply breathing, Brett watching with a craving heart as Nolan's face relaxes and finally, his lips part slightly.

 

"Sweetheart," Brett whispers, aware that Nolan can't hear him anymore, but it doesn't matter. Nothing will keep him from saying all the things he wants to say once they are finally reunited. "You are so perfect," he tells the sleeping beauty through his phone while counting the freckles on the bridge of Nolan's nose. He wants to kiss every single one. "I think I'm falling in love, Nolan."  There's a faint smile on his lips that you only recognize if you know the boy, but it's all that Brett can see as he closes his eyes as well and allows himself to drift off.

 

Not for the first time since he met Nolan, Brett is dreaming of a green background and rain. And two hands reaching out for each other, one a little bigger than the other, one rough and calloused and one delicate and soft, fingers moving with the elegance of a musician. The sounds of a guitar were echoing from somewhere in the distance. Brett can physically feel the effort he's putting into reaching out far enough to touch the other boy, to finally hold his hand tight enough for them not to get separated again, but a tiny distance remains between the tips of their fingers no matter how hard he tries.

 

"Just a little more," a voice that goes right under his skin tells him. The dream isn't new, but the voice is, and with the voice, there comes a smiling face and pale green eyes that are wide open, looking at him in expectation.

 

"Nolan," he says. And then he can see shiny blonde curls of hair.

 

"I'm right here," Nolan replies. Brett recognizes the background and realizes that they find themselves in the park back at Beacon Hills, not far from where they first met.

 

Brett would lose himself in despair because of the lack of touch, but every time he looks into Nolan's face, he can't think about anything other than how beautiful he is and how badly he wants to touch him, to prove how serious he is about him, how new and exciting and unique the feeling that he belongs to Nolan now.

 

"I'm going to die if I don't get to kiss you soon," he admits. He feels lost and saved at the same time.

 

"Please," Nolan whispers, taking a step towards him, breathing in the cold damp air of the night.

 

"Don't leave me, Nolan," Brett begs as he cups the soft cheek of his face, feeling warmth and life and excitement. And something that goes way deeper.

 

"Don't let me go," Nolan smiles, leaning in.

 

The next moment is entirely too long and entirely too short at once. They're standing so close that their chests almost touch when they breathe in at the same time. Nolan's face framed in Brett's trembling hands is the only thing existing in the world he lives in in that moment. Their eyes dart between each other's eyes and lips, Nolan's head tilted up, Brett's leaned down, their breaths mixing, their heartbeats in perfect sync. They're beyond the point of possible return, can feel the kiss dragging them in and the other consuming them before it's even happening. They close their eyes, savoring the wonderful trust that finally, at last, it's happening, and all the waiting doesn't matter anymore. There's just two boys and a kiss. And then it happens.

 

Their lips brush together just lightly, just enough to ignite sparks everywhere inside Brett, but then they break apart and grin. Nolan sighs and holds onto Brett's shoulders and smiles so widely that he needs a moment before they can go for second kiss, but Brett wouldn't dare to complain, not when it's the most magical thing he's ever witnessed.

 

"I've been wanting to do this forever," he confesses before their lips connect again, with a little more of the soft pressure this time, the taste of the tip of Nolan's tongue enough of an answer for him.

 

It stops raining as they keep kissing, their lips fitting together like puzzle pieces, their hands pulling each other impossibly closer as they explore. Brett can feel Nolan's fingers combing through his hair and stroking the sensitive skin at either side of his neck, awakening goosebumps and sending a shiver down his spine.

 

Soon, they go from gentle and slightly nervous to curious and demanding to downright hungry. Their kisses turn open-mouthed and wet and breathless, they swallow down each other's moans as their hands roam and feel and grope for twitching muscles. Brett's erection is pressing painfully hard against his pants, and judging by the feeling against his thigh, Nolan isn't doing much better than him.

 

Brett pulls away, only for Nolan to attack his neck with lips and tongue and teeth, making him forget what he wants to say for a few seconds before he forces himself to speak up. "Nolan," he says softly, a hand cradling through soft blonde hair, "tell me that you want me to take you home with me."

 

Nolan leans back and smiles, trusting Brett's grip around his hips not to let him fall back. Their dicks rub together due to the position, making Brett gasp for air. "Take me home," Nolan replies, "but only if you plan to make me scream out your name tonight."

 

"Fuck," Brett mutters. Soft little angel-like looking Nolan talking dirty like that turns him on so much more than he already was. A second later, he's striding across the lawn with purposeful steps and a squealing Nolan over his shoulder, two hands grabby around his ass as he walks. "Stop that," he growls, although he doesn't mean it at all, "we need to bring you home in one piece."

 

"And I don't doubt your ability to do that one bit," Nolan laughs. "Not when I promise you to make your wet dreams come true tonight."

 

Brett can hear the slap on his ass but not feel it, and suddenly he's awake in his temporary bed again, alone and hard and leaking onto his stomach. He turns his head to the phone propped up against a pillow next to him and sees Nolan sleeping peacefully. "Fuck," he moans.

 

Without doubt, this thing with the phone sex and especially the video call from the previous evening is hot and thrilling and clearly the closest he gets to having actual sex with Nolan, but it's not enough. It only pushes him further into a state of desperate craving, throwing him over one edge just for him to land hard right at the next one. He needs more. He needs the kind of more he won't find in the drawer of the nightstand, but this is all that he's prepared for at the moment, and so he fishes for the bottle of lube that smells like oranges and ice without taking his eyes off of Nolan.

 

Brett isn't sure what he wants, what he needs, and he knows fuck all about how to react in case Nolan wakes up, but his hands move without his brain's permission anyway, one wrapping around his hard cock and one squeezing a generous amount of lube on top of it.

 

He hisses at the contact of the cold liquid on his swollen tip, spreads his fingers and rubs his thumb over it, a first tremble going through his legs. He watches Nolan's bare chest heaving and sinking and strokes his dick in the rhythm of his breathing for a while until it's all too slow for him.

 

Brett sighs and spreads his legs as he tightens his fist around himself and begins jerking faster, closing his eyes from time to time to fantasize about the image of Nolan naked, then opening them again to take in the sleeping face of the boy. He doesn't know which turns him on more.

 

With slick fingers, Brett rubs his dick up and down, taking the corner of his pillow between his teeth to muffle the moans that escape him. He pushes himself further, uses his free hand to play with his sensitive nipples and thrashes uncontrollably when he pinches one. He fastens his pace and prepares himself to let go in just another minute, looks at Nolan, whispers his name with no actual sound in his voice, digs his heels into the mattress and spreads his knees.

 

He can feel it coming. He can feel it so close, and yet he needs another push, needs a little more every time since Nolan. He shakes and writhes and needs. He needs more lube first. And then he needs to spread his legs so far that he can feel air hitting his hole. And then he needs touch there, pressure. He rubs and teases as long as he can stand it, the wrist of his other hand flicking in quick little movements to get him off.

 

The moment Brett pushes two fingers inside at once is the moment he shoots his load with a strangled cry around his pillow.

 

And the moment that Nolan wakes up.

 

"Holy fuck, Brett," he hears the other boy say in a sleepy voice, but the bright eyes are open and awake as he looks right into the camera, the white pearls of cum prettily visible on Brett's chest on the screen.

 

"Sorry," Brett presses out, panting heavily, "I was dreaming about you."

 

"Don't apologize," Nolan replies, his shoulder telling that his arm is moving somewhere that Brett can't see. "And don't stop."

 

Brett doesn't know why he says the next thing that escapes his mouth. It must be the high of his orgasm. "Nolan," he says, "I was just starting to open myself up."

 

"Oh my... fuck," Nolan moans, throwing his head back and baring his delicate throat. "Keep going then."

 

A thought rushes through Brett's mind that prevents his dick from going soft at all. He feels open and vulnerable, but he's ready to give himself to Nolan. "Sweetheart," he whispers, "you have no idea how badly I need you right now."

 

"I'm right here," Nolan replies, "tell me what you need. Let me make you feel good. I want to be the one to give you what you need, Brett."

 

The promise drives Brett crazy with lust. "I... I want you to fuck me, Nolan," he admits, his legs parted, one hand between the cheeks of his ass. "I have lube... and I have... a dildo." 

 

He feels dirty saying it out loud, but the confession liberates him. And Nolan's reaction makes it absolutely impossible to regret his words.

 

Although he's biting his lip, Nolan's moan is loud and low, his arm starts moving faster, his cheeks blush into a beautiful pink, his eyes flutter shut for a moment before his gaze returns to Brett with an incredible intensity. "Show me," he begs.

 

Brett has never obliged to anything more willingly. One of his hands returns to the open drawer and pulls out the thick silicone dick, his fingers wrapped around the base as he holds it out for Nolan to see. The toy has a dark blue color and a thick head, a few veins running along it to make it feel like a real dick. Brett can only hope for that effect to be even stronger with Nolan watching him through his phone.

 

"Shit," Nolan presses out, his eyes wide and full of lust, "that looks big."

 

"So does your dick, sweetheart," Brett replies. He can only hope for the dildo to stretch him good and fuck him hard. It's not going to be like the real thing, but two weeks is a damn long time to wait for the real thing.

 

"Yeah?" Nolan replies. "Do you need a reminder how big it is? Here."

 

Just a second later, his dick is back in focus, fingers wrapped around it, the tip red and a little wet, Nolan's flushed chest and his blurry face in the background, a grin spreading on it as Brett moans and begins licking the toy on his hand.

 

It tastes nothing like a real dick, it's not warm or wet enough, doesn't have this maddening combination of salty and bitter to it, but when Brett closes his eyes and lets his tongue swirl around it, knowing that Nolan is observing his every move, he can pretend like it's almost as good.

 

"Jesus fucking christ," Nolan mutters as Brett's lips close around it and he hollows his cheeks, sucking and not caring about the sounds he's making. "I can't even imagine what it feels like to have my dick sucked by you, but I bet it's like heaven."

 

Brett pulls off and looks into the camera of his phone, licks over his lips before he speaks. "We'll find out, Nolan. Soon."

 

Nolan's reaction consists of an obscene moan and a jerk of his hand around his hard cock. It almost hurts not to be able to touch it, to swat Nolan's hand away and do the job for him, to bring his face close enough to lick at it, to draw his tongue along its length and look up at Nolan to see what the anticipation is doing to him, to tease him with light fingertips and a slick tongue until he begs for it. It almost hurts not to be able to close his lips around him, to swallow him down and feel him at the very back of his throat, to struggle for air around him and taste the result. Brett wants to scream.

 

Instead, he takes the dildo and does what he wants to do to Nolan, tries to at least show him what he wants, even if neither of them is going to get it. With his cheeks hollowed around the toy, Brett lets it go and squeezes more lube on his fingers, holding them out for Nolan to watch as he rubs it over his fingertips.

 

"Fuck, Brett. Show me your ass. I'm begging you. I cannot take you opening yourself up for me without seeing it."

 

Of course, Brett has absolutely no intention to deny him. He turns around and gets on his hands and knees, shuffles a bit to the left and then forward to make sure Nolan can see him well enough - all of him - which, judging by the moaning from the speaker, is the case. "Like what you see?" he asks as he pulls himself open with both hands.

 

"Like?" Nolan gasps. "I fucking love it. Fuck, what an ass. What a pretty hole. I just want to eat it until you come."

 

"Yeah, but you can't," Brett says, "you can only watch me." Extremely slowly, he moves one finger towards his entrance. "You can only watch me as I fuck myself pretending it was you."

"Oh my god, yes, keep talking. I'm so fucking hard I could explode right now probably, but I want to see you do it first."

 

"You want to see me, huh?" Brett says as he runs his finger over his hole and then down the sensitive skin to his balls, arching his back and allowing himself to let out all the noises. 

 

"What exactly is it that you want to see, Nolan?" he teases, hovering over the still tight ring of muscle, swirling over and around it, spreading the lube. "Do you want me to put one inside?" He places the tip of his finger right against the hole and stills. "Or maybe two?" And then he adds another one.

 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me if you-"

 

Nolan doesn't get to finish his sentence before both fingers slip inside him slowly, stretching Brett apart. He can't see Nolan's face in his current position, but what he can hear tells him how much the other boy is enjoying the sight.

 

The burning sensation of being stretched open sends little electric jolts through Brett's body. He circles his fingers and twists them, pushes further inside and pulls them almost all the way out again, tries to keep his breathing calm as his ass gets adjusted, tries to remain patient although it's too tempted to crook his fingers and go for the bundle of nerves inside him that he knows will wreck him.

 

"Do you want to watch me fucking my ass with my fingers, Nolan?" he continues. "Do you want to see me getting ready for you to fuck my brains out? Do you want to see me all nice and wet and open for your cock?"

 

The talking is getting a lot harder by now. Brett is writhing and breathless, moans falling from his lips as he's opening himself up and fantasizing about Nolan's dick filling him up, stretching him apart, rocking inside him.

 

"Yes," Nolan groans, "yes, all of that. I cannot tell you how hot this is."

 

"Good," Brett presses out, "because I'm so fucking ready. I can't wait anymore. I need to be fucked hard. Like, now."

 

"Do it," Nolan urges him. With one look back over his shoulder, Brett can see him jerking his dick in a fast and steady rhythm. He wants that dick so badly, but for now, the dildo will have to do. He picks it up and spreads a generous amount of lube over the thick head. With one arm holding him up against the mattress, he reaches back and lines up, holding the toy down and lowering his ass so that he only has to push down around it. He takes a moment to watch Nolan watch him, to feel the slicked up silicone pressing against his entrance.

 

"Fuck me, Nolan," he says.

 

"Fuck," Nolan murmurs. "Get yourself the dick you deserve, do it. Sit on it for me. Ride it."

 

Brett wants that too. He wants to feel the toy filling him up and wants to ride it, wants to give Nolan a good show, wants it hard and fast and maybe a little painful. He sinks back down with a "fuck" and a shudder. He's only had two fingers inside him to prepare himself, and two fingers are nowhere near the thickness that is sweetly tearing him apart now. He feels open and vulnerable, his mouth open in a silent cry as he stills, only the very tip caught on his rim, nothing really inside so far, just trembling thighs merely keeping him from losing it.

 

"How does it feel?" Nolan wants to know, his voice hoarse and endlessly sexy. Brett can hear the slick head of his dick moving in and out of his fist.

 

"Like everything," Brett says without thinking. "Like too much. Like so, so far from enough."

 

"Do you want more?"

 

"Fuck, yes!"

 

"Then get it, Brett," Nolan pushes him.

 

It's not like Brett hasn't had the idea on his own, but Nolan telling him what to do has something magical about it, something that feels a little bit like being wrapped up in tight arms, something safe and consuming, something intimate.

 

He arches his back a little more, bends his legs a little further, sinks down just half an inch, almost not moving at all, the shaking of his legs offering enough friction to drive him crazy as it is. Still, it's not enough. He wants to go all the way down, wants to feel everything there is to feel, wants to get destroyed by Nolan, wants to let himself go and melt into a puddle of sweat and cum around the dildo.

 

He wants, wants, wants, and his dick seems to be very much d'accord, but his ass is burning. Still, he fights his way down with his teeth dug into his lower lip and loud moans falling from his mouth, a fist clenched around the sheets of his bed and Nolan gasping for air as he's watching.

 

"Holy shit, Brett, what are you doing? Fuck, this is too hot."

 

"Do you like it a little rough, Nolan?" Brett asks, his voice a mess.

 

"Are you asking me to give it to you the hard way?" Nolan asks back. "Because I can do that. Do you like being pinned down?" Brett whines and squirms, can practically feel Nolan's words stroking his skin. "Do you like getting your pretty ass slapped?" Another whimper follows. "Mm you like to give up control, don't you?"

 

"Yes." Brett is panting and shaking all over. There's no room left for shame or hidden desires. His body answers for him anyway, strains towards Nolan's sinful voice and begs for more.

 

"In that case you better listen to me carefully. You better be a good boy or I won't let you cum. But I'll make you work for it anyway, honey."

 

"Yes, please," Brett whines. The words sound like a threat but the sound makes them a promise. Brett doesn't care. He'll take it. He'll take everything Nolan has for him.

 

"I want to see you cry."

 

_ I want to see you cry. _

 

Something about those words goes right under Brett's skin and stays there, tingling and burning and making him weak with impatience. He would never have expected for that demand to turn him on this much, to add so much to the thrill of fucking himself onto a dildo before Nolan's hungry eyes, but it does. Maybe it's the tone in Nolan's voice, the urgency.

 

Maybe it's the direct and simple way he pronounced his wish. Maybe it's because they're not even in the same room, haven't even done so much as kissed in reality, but here they are, ready to wreck each other thoroughly, wanting to make it unforgettable.

 

"You better fuck me hard, then," Brett answers into the silence that tells him Nolan is waiting for his go.

 

"You want it hard?" Nolan repeats. "Then spread your ass, honey. Show me what it looks like when take a huge cock all the way down. Show me the magic your gorgeous hole can do."

 

Brett moans and throws his head back, his hands are slightly trembling as he reaches back and pulls himself apart, feeling his ass moving around the very top of the toy. That alone makes his dick twitch and cry salty tears of frustration. Encouraged by Nolan's mumbled little "fuck"s and "so hot"s, he arches his back and lets his legs give in a little more.

 

The burning sensation changes when he's no longer just stretched open, but properly filled, the warm silicone moving against his inner walls making his vision blur a little. He feels good, amazing, like he's on top of the whole world, soaring, flying. It's close to what he wants, but not yet all that he needs.

 

"Slap your ass for me, Brett," Nolan begs a little out of breath. Brett can tell that he has to stop jacking his cock every now and then to stay calm enough for now. Before his brain can tell him that it's weird for him to slap his own ass, his hand is already struck out. The blow sends a jolt of pain through him, a beautiful, warm kind of pain, one that makes him cry out for more.

 

"Oh my god," Nolan comments, "I can see actual fingers on your ass. That is so fucking hot."

Brett would agree, but he's busy moving his writhing body further down, working it around the thick toy. He's all sweaty from the effort not to go all the way at once, to hold himself up long enough for both Nolan and himself to enjoy this properly. "Fuck," he groans out, "it's so fucking big." It really is big. But it fits. From what Brett can tell, it matches the size of Nolan's dick almost perfectly, which may or may not have been the reason why he's mentioned having it in the first place.

 

"Do you like it?" Nolan asks. "Do you like getting fucked by a big dick?"

 

"Yes," Brett answers truthfully. "So much." He squeezes his eyes shut as he presses down and bottoms out, feeling his rim clenching around the silicone, feeling himself getting adjusted, resisting the urge to move to get friction against his prostate instead of just touch.

 

"Move," Nolan commands. "Just your hips."

 

Truth be told, it's hard. It's fucking hard for Brett to keep himself steady with his  body leaned forward and his hands stemmed into the mattress and do nothing more than moving his hips in circles. If Nolan told him to go crazy and ride the dildo as hard as fast as possible he would do that, too. He moans loudly at the movement inside him, looks down at his aching cock in disbelief that he still hasn't shot his load everywhere. Because the one in control over that is Nolan, he realizes.

 

"Tell me what it feels like," Nolan pleads. Brett looks back over his shoulder and sees his face flushed and sweaty in the background of his dick, licks his lips at the sight of how wet it is.

 

"Like I want to feel nothing else other than this ever again," he replies.

 

"Then go faster."

 

And faster he goes, holding the toy down with one hand while he rocks his hips up and down, riding it in a steady rhythm towards the edge of an orgasm that will certainly destroy him.

 

"Fuck, yes," Nolan moans. "You can cum from this, right? Without touching yourself? Just riding my cock like we both love it?"

 

"Yes." Absolutely no doubt about that.

 

"Good," Nolan says. "Or at least it would be, if I intended to let you."

 

"What?" Brett asks breathlessly. He's so worked up by now, he can't even stop his movements to be mad.

 

"Stop," Nolan commands. "Stop and sit and feel it inside you."

 

Not without a complaining whine, Brett does as he's told, interrupting his movements and sinking all the way down around the dildo that almost feels like Nolan as long as the other boy is talking to him. He may not be moving, but his body is shaking and twitching enough to get him a maddening friction, a light brush of the dildo over his prostate every few seconds.

 

"Be patient," Nolan whispers. He's gone quite silent as well. "Feel me inside you, Brett. Feel how big I am and how I stretch you apart. How well I fill you up. Doesn't it feel absolutely amazing?"

 

"Yes," Brett breathes out, because it fucking does, and what he's feeling is not just amazing, it's also overwhelmingly much, so far too much that all he needs is more. "Nolan," he begs.

 

"What do you need?"

 

_ To be fucked over this damn edge _ , Brett thinks. "Anything," he says.

 

"Are you close?"

 

"Fuck yes," Brett answers with a look down at himself. He's so close he's practically having a pre-orgasm orgasm. But Nolan's going to make him cum now, right?

 

"I wonder how much longer you can wait for me," Nolan says instead. Brett whimpers and slumps down, unintentionally hitting his prostate again. He's so desperate by now that it's not entirely funny anymore.

 

"No!" he protests weakly. "No... no, fuck, Nolan!"

 

"God," Nolan marvels, "look at that trembling ass. So needy, huh?"

 

Brett whines and throws his head from one side to the other in frustration. Every muscle in his body aches to move, but he wills himself as still as possible.

 

"Too bad for you that I like you all needy for me," Nolan adds.

 

It's too much. Brett is sweaty and hard and leaking and ready. He has a huge dildo buried in his burning ass, can feel it pressing against his prostate with every inhale and exhale. 

 

Nothing but Nolan's voice is restraining him and the sheer power of that drives him insane. He has to have it. Has to have Nolan. Needs arms wrapped around him and lips on his neck. Needs the heat of another body against his own and the noises of actual skin on skin contact. He needs to get fucked. He needs to let go.

 

Breathing and moaning are no longer two distinct actions.

 

Everything burns.

 

The whole world narrows down to a cock in Brett's ass and a voice telling him to keep still, promising him that it will be worth it.

 

Moans turn into cries and sobs.

 

It isn't until the first tear falls from Brett's chin onto his chest that he understands. His face is wet from crying. He's done.

 

The sound that escapes Brett's lips os somewhere between pain and relief, between frustration and triumph as he turns around and lies down onto his back, his legs spread widely, the dildo in his shaking hand, the absolute peak of desperate begging written on his damp face. "Nolan," is all that he brings out.

 

"I've got you," the other boy says. "Go ahead. Get what you deserve."

 

Nolan waits for Brett to push the dildo back inside him to push his hips up in the same moment, urging his dick inside his fist, fucking inside it with the same wild abandon that Brett does. It takes neither of them very long.

 

Everything is a hot, loud, blurry mess of skin and fire inside and grunts that may or may not be names. A minute of thrashing and rocking hips and teeth dug into lips. All of the best feelings in the world at once. Higher, higher, higher. Closer.

 

And then Brett can feel himself in a way that he can't remember knowing before. Nolan's dick with his hand around it is right in focus, but all that Brett can see in that one moment is his face, the frame of messy blonde hair and the bright green of his eyes, the smooth skin and the freckles. Brett can feel himself falling. It's glorious. What his hips and the hand wrapped around the base of his toy are doing doesn't have a rhythm or any kind of system. It's just wild and raw, just his lust let loose. He shoots thick spurts of cum over his chest, arches his back off the mattress and opens his mouth in case he can catch some of it. He's too far gone to watch it, but the noises of Nolan's orgasm carry him through his own until he goes slack and falls down.

 

He's sure he's no longer the same person.

 

For several minutes, there's nothing but shiny wet skin on phone screens watched through half lidded eyes and heavy panting. Then they both look into the camera at the same time and start laughing.

 

"I can absolutely not believe you," Brett says. "I'll have to keep you in my bed for at least three full days once I'm back."

 

Nolan raises an eyebrow and grins. "Are you sure we would survive three whole days like this?"

 

Brett shrugs and smiles. "Doesn't matter if not. I'm already in heaven."


	8. Chapter 8

"Can I ask you a weird question?" Nolan asked shyly. It was fascinating how quickly he could switch from telling Brett how to fuck himself on a dildo to being all flustered by the compliments on his eyes. They'd been talking for hours again, sharing every detail of their work day and their favorite stories, making jokes just to hear the other one laughing. It was a strange mix of freedom to be completely himself with Brett and the absolute need to be himself in the best way possible. He wasn't going to risk losing Brett before they'd even really been together.

 

"Sure," Brett smiled, his head resting on the pillow in his bed, arm draped around it, his bare chest and the impressive biceps showing off perfectly, but what Nolan wanted to touch the most badly was another part of him.

 

"Can you show me your hands?" he whispered, scared that he sounded like a total creep, an apparently very naive and childish part of his brain suggesting that saying dumb stuff was somehow less embarrassing if he said it quietly, as if that changed anything about the plea itself.

 

"My hands?" Brett wanted to know, eyebrow furrowed, but not in an angry or disgusted way, more like genuinely curiously. He took his arm down from the pillow.

 

"I think I have a thing for your hands," Nolan admitted, looking into the soft light blue of Brett's eyes. "Like, not a pervy thing. I swear it's nothing gross. I just-" He might have said it wasn't a pervy thing, but Nolan was struggling to find the right words to make clear it really wasn't. "- I just really like what I've seen of them so far."

 

Nolan could tell that Brett was looking down at his own hands, unfortunately cut out from the camera's frame, probably wondering what Nolan could possibly be on about. He needed to explain this properly.

 

"Look," he began, "they're so big. Like you could take my hand in yours and it would look so tiny and I don't know why, but the thought of that drives me crazy.  And those long fingers and all the rough patches."

 

"Yeah, because of work. Because I basically spend all day ruining them," Brett noted.

"I love that your hands tell how hard you work, Brett," Nolan said, "to me your hands look strong and skilled and dedicated, and I think that's wonderful. And yet, whenever I imagine them touching me, I can only feel softness."

 

"Because I'll be the softest possible if I'm ever lucky enough to get to touch you, Nolan," Brett told him, summoning the goosebumps to rise on Nolan's skin with his promise.

 

"You will," Nolan nodded. "And I will take my time to kiss every little cut and scar. I've been dreaming about running my fingers along the veins on the back of your hands and up your arms for weeks. And now-" Brett was propped up against the headboard by then, one arm resting at his side, the soft inside of his forearm presented to the camera, his own finger tracing the blue lines just like Nolan wanted to. "- God, Brett, do you even know what you're doing to me?"

 

"Tell me," Brett dared him with a smile, wrapping his hand around his wrist, showing Nolan pale skin stretching over knuckles and veins, gracefully moving fingers and the faintest bit of light blonde hair covering Brett's arms, making him desperate with the need to touch.

 

"I want you so much," Nolan whispered. "This being apart thing is killing me. I knew it from the moment that I first saw you. I watched you working, watched your hands doing magic, creating something, walked by the site at night and thought about that it was you who did this, and I wanted to feel your hands in mine. And now I want that a million times more badly. I want to have the same hands that can build beautiful artful furniture on me. Because that's you, Brett. That's what you do and who you are. Not just what you're good at, but what you love. And I've never felt more consumed by a person than the night you told me about your hobby, showing the those pictures of the things you've created as if they were just little things, just a hobby, but they had your name written all over them and I want that too. I want to have your name written all over me."

 

"Oh my god," Brett whispered in response, his face turning to a bright red shade, his eyes wide open, a little surprised. "You can't just say stuff like that to me, it's not fair."

 

"The only thing that's not fair is that I have to say it through the phone," Nolan pointed out.

 

"And that I can't kiss you right now," Brett added.

 

"Yeah, and that," Nolan agreed.

 

Life was truly unfair, leaving them both to each other's face on a little phone screen and a thousand text messages per day, to lengthy conversations that felt like they'd known each other for ages, a new little detail about the other's life coming up every night, and all it did was making them crush a little harder. It went on like that for another week, nearly not bearable until being apart got to its peak of painful frustration.

 

"What's wrong, honey?" Nolan asked. He could tell by the look on Brett's face that something was off. The other boy didn't exactly display his bad mood very much, it was more the absence of his usual joyful smile that made Nolan suspicious.

 

"Ugh," Brett sighed. "This was the worst day ever."

 

"What happened?" Nolan wanted to know, shifted of his bed and bringing his phone a little closer, his instincts telling him to pull Brett into his arms and kiss it better, and the fact that he couldn't left a sting in his heart.

 

"Something went wrong with the project," Brett mumbled, his face looking tired, his lips a little pouty. "We were working on a piece of ground that had an unexpected hole underneath and we broke through, Liam fell in and I twisted my ankle."

 

"Oh no," Nolan gasped, "are you alright? Is it bad? Have you seen a doctor?" He wasn't usually like that, normally kept his composure even when things went wrong, always approached difficult situations with a clear head, but it was Brett that they were talking about here, and he got hurt and Nolan wasn't there with him, couldn't take care of him the way he wanted, and everything about that was wrong.

 

"Oh god, you sweetheart," Brett replied, "don't worry. I'm fine. It was completely harmless. The problem isn't that I got hurt or anything."

 

Nolan almost didn't dare to ask, but when Brett wouldn't continue, he felt like he had to. "Then what's the problem?"

 

Brett sighed deeply, looking up into Nolan's eyes as directly as it was possible on video chat before he spoke. "This shit takes us a few steps back with the whole job. We fixed it for now, but it's going to take some extra work. Maybe a couple of extra days over here. Extra time away from you."

 

There it was. Not exactly the end of the world, of course, and somehow a relief considering that Brett was at least not injured, but it still hurt like a bitch. They'd gotten so close. So damn close. Only four days had been left until Brett had been supposed to return home, until they would have spent the entire weekend together. Nolan had begged Derek for the Saturday off, had promised to do a double shift on Friday instead.

 

He was tired. Tired of the touches that weren't happening and the fear that everything would turn out to be not as great as imagined. Tired of not reacting the way he wanted to when Brett told him things about his life, tired of sleeping alone. Tired of waiting. And now the universe was keeping them apart for even longer. What on earth had he ever done to deserve this?

 

"Fuck," Nolan muttered.

 

"Yeah, fuck," Brett agreed. "I just want to fall asleep with the boy of my dreams in my arms, is that too much to ask, goddamnit?"

 

Nolan sighed. "It's not, Brett," he said. He was almost as frustrated as the other boy, but he wasn't going to let him look this sad. Not an option. Nolan couldn't take it. "Look, I know it's hard, okay? I hate this. I hate every inch that lies between us, keeping me away from your arms. I hate to see you this way and I hate not being able to kiss that pout out of your face. But hey, think about it this way, we still have a hole lot to be grateful for?"

 

"We do?" Brett asked. "Because right now I'm not feeling very grateful."

 

"We do," Nolan nodded. "We could have never met, you know. You could have worked at any other site than the one in front of the store I work at and maybe our paths would never have crossed. But they did. And as unfair as life seems sometimes, it gave me you. And when I already believed I'd never see you again, there suddenly was this piece of paper with a phone number on it. Here-" Nolan reached for the note he'd kept on his nightstand. "- I still have it. I've held it in my hands a little more often than I should probably admit right now."

 

"God, you're so adorable," Brett remarked. He looked considerably less miserable already.

 

"Don't interrupt me, I'm not done yet," Nolan carried on. "I know this is not how you'd imagine to get to know someone. Sure, I would have prefered an actual date, too. Or maybe I wouldn't, because this is our story, you know. It's the story of how a bunch of really hot construction workers turned up outside the store one day, and how I instantly fell in love with one of them. How I was too shy to do anything about it, but luckily, he wasn't. The story of how one call led to another and I soon felt like I wanted to tell this person everything about me. How I'd never felt so accepted before, how every word, even when it came from the speaker of my phone made me feel special. And that story hasn't had a great kiss scene yet, and maybe we're waiting really impatiently, but that doesn't mean it hasn't been my absolute favorite story so far. And apart from that, it has only just begun, remember that."

 

"Great, now I need to kiss you like a million times more urgently," Brett whispered.

 

"And the same counts for me," Nolan said with a smile, "but a few days or even a week or a few are no eternity. It might feel like it right now, but not for much longer."

 

"God, I want to get up right now and go fix that stupid hole and get all the work done until the morning," Brett laughed. Jesus, that laugh, it did things to Nolan. Incredible, wonderful, magical things. He was so addicted to that sound.

 

"Don't do that, love," Nolan shook his head, "I don't want you to fall in any holes at night and hurt yourself for real."

 

"Don't worry," Brett smiled, "I don't really feel like hanging up right now. Besides, the falling in holes part seems to be Liam's thing, for whatever reason."

 

The mood was much lighter after that, the conversation drifting to all the occasions where Brett's best friend had needed to be rescued. Nolan played on his guitar a little before they both went to bed to sleep, grinning so widely after they'd stopped talking that it took them forever until their tired eyes finally fell shut, but Brett didn't leave Nolan, especially not in his dreams.

 

***

 

"How are things going?" Nolan asked two days later when he was on the phone with a heavily breathing Brett. "Is it clear yet how much more time you'll need?"

 

"Not yet," Brett replied, "but I'm headed to a meeting with the guys and our boss right now to discuss the matter. I think we're on a good way to getting everything fixed, but we'll see."

 

"Great," Nolan said, "wishing you luck then. Talk to you tonight?"

 

"Oh yes," Brett answered, "I'm definitely going to talk to you tonight." A wonderful laugh followed and made the butterflies in Nolan's belly come alive.

 

"Can't wait," he smiled.

 

"Me neither," Brett said before he hung up.

 

Nolan leaned back on his sofa with a dumb grin on his face, putting the hand with his phone in it over his heart and sighing deeply. All of their short conversation tasted so much like domesticity, like a casual phone call between boyfriends, like a routine that belonged to their lives by now. It made him all warm inside, let him relax and feel engulfed by his own happiness. Everything was nice and calm and relaxed.

 

Until the doorbell ringing made Nolan jump.

 

"Who the fuck...?" he whispered to himself. He never had unexpected visitors. With a groan and a grumpy expression, he got up and padded to the door on his bare feet, his heart suddenly beating like crazy. Damn, what was that thing in his chest doing?

 

The visitor waiting in front of his door was indeed unexpected. Very, very unexpected. But not at all unwelcome.


	9. Chapter 9

He knew better. Of course he knew better than to believe it could be Brett, even though his heart was pounding like it knew something his brain didn’t. They’d just gotten off the phone, and even if Brett had wanted to surprise him, a part of Nolan was convinced that the other boy wouldn’t have been able to lie to him that easily. 

 

Still, his hands were sweaty as he reached for the door handle, and he was suddenly very aware of how little effort he’d put into his hair that day, and that the shirt he was wearing wasn’t exactly freshly washed. Not that any of that would have kept him from answering the door. 

 

The unexpected visitor wasn’t Brett. 

 

It was a young guy, not nearly as tall as Brett, the color of his hair a little darker, the blue of his eyes more ocean than summer sky, pretty, but not Brett-pretty. Nolan’s heart sank at first, although he knew exactly how stupid he’d been to get his hopes up in the first place, but that silly thing in his chest wasn’t listening to his brain anymore. As the young man in front him smiled and greeted him, Nolan realized that he looked familiar. 

 

“Liam, right?” he asked when it hit him. Hot construction worker Liam, this time with a clean face and a shirt on. Brett’s best friend Liam. 

 

“Hey Nolan,” Liam replied with a nod, offering a clean, tanned and strong looking hand. “Nice to finally officially meet you. How do you feel about getting abducted today? Because personally, I’d very much prefer you coming with me by your own free will, but I’m totally prepared to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to Roseville if necessary, just so you know.” 

 

Nolan looked at the wide grin in surprise, unsure how to react. “Well, nice to meet you too,” he mumbled. “I’m.. what?”

 

“Look,” Liam sighed, “I’ll explain this to you on the way, okay? For now I only need you to answer this one question. Do you want to see Brett?” 

 

Nolan was confused. Too many thoughts were running through his head at once, too many memories of phone calls and video chats and promises, too many hopes and fears. As he tried to focus on that one question though, he didn’t need to think at all. 

 

“Yes,” he heard himself saying. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to see Brett, wanted to finally be in his arms. 

 

“Awesome,” Liam smiled. “Hop in then.” He pointed at the truck parked at the sidewalk, another one of the guys sitting behind the steering wheel, probably Theo, as far as Nolan could tell from the things Brett had told him about his friends. 

 

Nolan’s first instinct was to close the door behind him and run down the stairs towards the car. He then stopped in his tracks as he realized he was barefoot and completely unprepared, asking Liam to wait a minute so that he could change real quick. 

 

“God,” Liam laughed, “you’re just as far gone as he is. So adorable.” 

 

“I’ll be right back,” Nolan said as he jumped back inside, discarding his old shirt somewhere in the hallway before brushing his teeth, slipping on a pair of socks and shoes, pulling a fresh white shirt from the pile of clothes on his desk chair, deciding that it was entirely hopeless to even start with his hair. 

 

He was completely certain that he looked exactly as spontaneously dressed and messy inside as he felt, but Nolan couldn’t even care about that. He barely managed to shove his phone, wallet and keys into the pocket of his jeans before he left the house, as nervous as ever, but nothing in the world was going to hold him back. 

 

“What are you guys even doing here?” he asked after shaking the hand of the driver who turned out to actually be Theo. “I thought you were supposed to have some kind of meeting to discuss that problem that came up with your project.” 

 

“Technicalities,” Theo sighed with an eye-roll, hitting the gas as they turned onto the road leading out of Beacon Hills. 

 

“What Theo means is that technically, we were probably expected at that meeting,” Liam explained, “but practically, we have absolute trust in Brett that he’s got it. So we’re now taking care of the more pressing matters.” 

 

“And what exactly are those?” Nolan wanted to know. Not that he was complaining about someone bringing him to Brett, but he still didn’t quite follow what was happening and why. 

 

Liam turned around from the passenger’s seat to look at Nolan directly. “No offense,” he said, “but that thing between the two of you is getting so annoying.” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Theo agreed, “so fucking annoying.” 

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Liam continued, “I love Brett like a brother. And I totally get what he’s going through right now.” Liam averted his eyes only for a second to look at Theo and Theo’s hand wandered to Liam’s knee at the same moment, and Nolan knew that they truly did understand. 

 

“Still,” Liam said as he turned back, “we’ve been listening to him talking about you for weeks now. Twenty-four/seven. Seven days a week. Awake or asleep. All the fucking time. All he’s been doing is talking to you on the phone or talking about you, and frankly, there’s only so much love-drunk rambling one can take.” 

 

“Wow, seriously?” Theo interjected. “Are we really going to pretend like it’s not all the fucking facetime sex that’s to blame?” 

 

Nolan turned bright red like a tomato in the backseat. Liam slapped Theo on the arm, earning a laugh in return. 

 

“Don’t worry, dude,” Liam assured Nolan, “it wasn’t that bad.” 

 

“Are you kidding me?” Theo gasped. “It wasn’t that bad? I was temporarily convinced I hated you because it sounded like you were having better sex over the fucking phone than I ever had in real life.” 

 

“Theo!” Liam scolded. 

 

“Fine,” Theo gave in, “I was exaggerating, okay? But seriously, you two need to not be that far apart anymore.” 

 

“That is now something we definitely agree on,” Nolan nodded, “but that still doesn’t really explain to me why you just showed up at my door out of nowhere. How do you even know where I live?” 

 

“Not important right now,” Liam brushed him off. “What’s important here is our mission.” 

 

“Our mission?” 

 

“You know,” Theo said with a mischievous grin, “really Liam just feels guilty because he fell in a hole again. He’s got a track record, I’m telling you. Actually, I just put up with him in the hopes of making a comedy out of it one day and becoming rich.” 

 

Liam smacked his boyfriend’s arm again, a little harder this time. “Shut up,” he grumbled. “The point is, our work in Roseville should have been done by now. Brett should be on his way home to Beacon Hills, on his way to finally see you. And yes, I do feel a little guilty for crashing through the concrete and giving us all more week to do. You should have seen Brett that night when it became clear that we’d have to stay even longer.” 

 

“Yeah, the poor dude looked devastated,” Theo added. 

 

“He wanted to see you so badly, Nolan,” Liam said. “And gravity might be my ultimate enemy, but I’m not going to have anybody say I’m not the greatest best friend there is. So now we’re bringing you to him.” 

 

Nolan was a little speechless at first. He’d heard Brett talking about all of the other guys and especially his and Liam’s friendship a lot, but now that he was picturing Liam and Theo putting up with Brett during the previous few weeks, letting it sink in what they were currently doing for them, what they were making possible, he was incredibly happy. Happy to finally get to see Brett, of course, but even a little bit more than that, happy for Brett to have that kind of friendship in his life. 

 

“Wow,” Nolan breathed out, “you guys really are great. I… I’m sorry, I haven’t even thanked you yet. This is… I know you’re not doing this for me, but you’re amazing and… Thank you, really.” 

 

“Oh, don’t thank us yet,” Theo replied with a wink into the rearview mirror. 

 

Liam once again rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s contribution. “You’re welcome,” he said to Nolan. “I’m going to have to break your spine if you break his heart, but I’m just saying that for the record. I know you won’t. And you deserve this as much as he does.” 

 

“Thank you,” Nolan said again, because he knew no bigger words in that moment. 

 

Every minute of the car drive with Liam and Theo made Nolan a little more aware of how just long he’d been waiting, every mention of Brett’s name made his heart flutter, every mile closer rendered him a little more nervous. 

 

“Hey!” Liam suddenly called out. They must already be close. “Theo! Where are you going? Brett has to be at the trailer. He’s texted me about five hundred times.” 

 

“Patience,” Theo answered in a low voice, “they’ve been waiting for weeks now, I think we can take one last little detour.” 

 

“To where?” Liam asked. 

 

“Yeah, to where?” Nolan wanted to know, too. He wasn’t going to make any demands from the backseat of another dude’s car that was finally bringing him to Brett, but he had to admit that he wondered what could possibly be more urgent in that moment.

 

“I want to show you something,” Theo responded. He took two last turns and pulled up in front of a huge construction site, a new building partly standing, the ground dug open, machines and tools all over the place.

 

“Our project?” Liam asked, looking at Theo in confusion. 

 

Theo jumped out of the truck and made a few steps to the side, away from the building and to the edge of the closed-off area, where one single stripe of green caught the eye. Nolan followed him curiously, convinced that the mysterious grin on his face meant that there was something more behind it. 

 

“No,” Theo shook his head, “although I do think it’s pretty cool, I don’t want to show you what we’ve been working on. What I want to show you is what Brett’s been working on.” He stepped aside and waiting for Nolan’s gaze to follow his pointed finger. 

 

The bit of green wasn’t just green. Actually, the little square of grass had been turned into a beautiful bed of flowers, containing all the colors that Nolan could imagine existing. It was just a small section of the otherwise grey and muddy ground, and it looked utterly out of place, but if anything, that made it all the more beautiful. 

 

“Brett planted those flowers?” Nolan asked, unable to take his eyes off of the piece of art. He didn’t know anything about flowers, couldn’t have named a single one of them, but he loved the image they created, and he was certain that not one of them looked like any other. 

 

“Yeah,” Theo said calmly. “One for every day he was away from you.” 

 

“Oh my god,” Nolan whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “Can you bring me to him now?” he asked. 

 

“Sure,” Theo smiled and turned around to get back to the car. 

 

Nolan took one last look, mesmerized by the beauty of Brett’s special creation, but although a part of him didn’t want to stop staring, the one that needed to see Brett as soon as possible to tell him how much he loved it and how much he’d missed him was stronger. Nobody had ever done anything even remotely as romantic as the little bed of flowers for Nolan. Except Brett hadn’t even really done it  _ for  _ Nolan. It wasn’t like Nolan had ever been supposed to come to the place to see it, and Brett had never mentioned it or sent a photo or anything. It had been just for him,  _ because of _ Nolan. Because of his feelings for Nolan, and that thought was more beautiful even than all the gorgeous flowers. 

 

The construction trailer was right around the corner, and behind it two little cabins. 

 

“The left one,” Liam told Nolan as the truck came to a halt. 

 

Nolan didn’t know how his shaky hands managed to push the door open to let himself out, or how his wobbly knees didn’t give out under him as he walked towards the left one of the two cabins. He heard nothing but his own heart beating, felt like the adrenaline in his veins was carrying him two inches above the ground. 

 

He wasn’t ready. He was overwhelmed by emotions and scared shitless, convinced that he’d sweated through his shirt, not sure whether he was even able to speak. Still, Nolan couldn’t not have knocked at the door. 

 

“Fucking finally,” he heard Brett saying from inside, the words followed by steps moving closer to the door. 

 

Nolan was freaking out, freaking the absolute fuck out as he stood there paralyzed, a new little heart attack coming with every breath he took in. 

 

“You could at least have answered your phone, guys, I thought you were-” 

 

The door was open. 

 

Nolan still couldn’t move. 

 

Everything was silent. 

 

At first, Brett’s jaw dropped. It would have been the perfect movie scene. 

 

Then, he blinked. Once, twice, shutting his eyes and pressing his lids closed, opening them up again to look Nolan straight in the face and drown him in endless waves of blue. 

 

“Holy shit,” Brett whispered. 

 

“I know,” Nolan smiled. He’d thought the same when he’d recognized Liam standing in front of his own door, but it must be even more unbelievable for Brett. At least Nolan had been let in slowly and carefully. 

 

“I’m so… What are you… Oh my god, are you really here?” Brett looked him up and down, his gaze always returning to Nolan’s eyes, but he stood still, not making any attempt to move or touch him. 

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “looks like you’ve successfully annoyed Liam into doing this for us.” 

 

It wasn’t until then than Brett looked over Nolan’s shoulder and found his two friends standing by the truck, nodding lightly. “Remind me to thank them later,” he smiled, “for now… Would you like to come in?” 

 

“Yeah,” Nolan answered, “I’d love that.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Brett said as they stood in the middle of the tiny cabin, a sofa and a coffee table standing practically right in the kitchen. “I’m… I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting this at all.” 

 

He looked a little bit like a giant, the sporadic furniture around him clearly not made for someone as tall as him, but the blond curls framing his face and the light beard and the hoodie he was wearing made him appear like an incredibly soft giant, a shyly smiling one with a deep blush glowing from his cheeks. 

 

“Me neither,” Nolan said. It was a little crazy to think that he was probably the slightly less nervous one of them. “You’d literally just hung up when Liam rang at my door. I don’t know why, but for a moment I thought that it was you.” 

 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t,” Brett mumbled, rubbing his neck. “Do you want anything to drink? I just made tea.” 

 

“Tea sounds lovely,” Nolan nodded, relaxing a little bit as he watched Brett getting to work in the comically small kitchen, sitting down on the sofa. “And you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m actually pretty glad I got to know your friends.” He was contemplating mentioning the flower bed, but Brett seemed so flustered already that he decided to save that for another time. 

 

“Really?” Brett asked, setting a cup of tea down in front of Nolan and taking the seat next to him, closely enough for it to be completely possible that their knees would touch at some point. “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

 

“Finally,” Nolan whispered. 

 

“Yeah, finally,” Brett agreed. “I know it sounds weird, considering that we’ve only really seen each other a couple of times before, but I’ve missed you.” 

 

“Not at all,” Nolan shook his head, “I’ve missed you too.” 

 

“Can you believe you’re not looking into your phone right now?” Brett asked. “Because I’m not sure I can.” 

 

“Well, we can totally get on facetime if that would make you feel more comfortable,” Nolan joked. 

 

“No,” Brett declined seriously. “No way. You look much prettier like this. I could literally-”

 

“What?” Nolan asked. He felt warm and safe and relaxed, and yet his heartbeat was drumming a melody to a song about longing. He wasn’t any less nervous than before, but there was something more important spreading above all the insecurities. Hope, maybe. Possibility. Relief. Want. He wanted to know, and then he wanted exactly was Brett was going to say. 

 

“This time,” Brett replied, “I could actually just take your hand in mine.” 

 

“Yes,” Nolan nodded. He couldn’t believe how shy they both were about it. It was absolutely ridiculous, if you thought about it, considering the things they’d done to and with each other before. Hell, not so long ago Nolan had bossed Brett around and told him how to fuck himself with a dildo through the phone while also watching, and now he didn’t know where exactly to put his hand to make Brett hold it. 

 

Brett’s fingers found his own after a moment, though, stroking along them softly before pressing their palms together, making Nolan’s hand look smaller than it was in his, rubbing his thumb over the soft spot between Nolan’s thumb and the first knuckle of his index finger. Being in love really did feel like having butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, Nolan decided. 

 

They both looked down at their joined fingers, and all of a sudden, Nolan didn’t see his ruined fingertips from playing the guitar or his bitten nails, he only saw the slightly different shades of their skin tone and the rough patches of Brett’s hands rubbing against the softness of his own and how well their hands fit into each other. The contact felt warm and soothing at the same time as it made something tingle inside him. 

 

“This time,” Nolan said, tracing the vein leading from the back of Brett’s hand up his forearm with one finger of his free hand, “I could actually touch you.” He watched in awe as goosebumps spread over Brett’s arm, disappearing beneath the pushed up sleeve. He rubbed the arm all the way up to Brett’s shoulder, letting his hand rest above his beating heart. 

 

“Yes,” Brett whispered, leaning into the touch. He brought his other hand up as well, placed it over Nolan’s at first, then reached for the collar of Nolan’s shirt, tugging at it lightly. “This time, I could actually kiss you.” 

 

Nolan caught Brett looking down at his lips, but not until the third or fourth time, since he was busy doing the exact same thing. “Yes,” he whispered, “you could.” 

 

Nolan had been dreaming about kissing Brett for weeks. He’d spent so much time staring at the full pair of pink lips on the screen of his phone, had wondered so many times how they’d feel against his own, what they’d taste like. 

 

In none of the made up scenarios in his head had they been in Roseville, let alone a little cabin by a construction site. They hadn’t been grinning so dumbly, or leaning in so hesitantly. They hadn’t been trembling so much, hadn’t been so awkward, so insecure. It had been all smooth in his imagination, both of them knowing by instinct what to do, the timing just right. Compared to that, the reality was a trainwreck that probably would have pained any potential viewers, but it was Brett’s and Nolan’s little secret, and because of that, it was perfectly fine. 

 

The actual pressure of Brett’s lips against his own made everything better, made Nolan like he finally had found what he’d been looking for, like he was in the exact right place at the exact right time with the exact right person. He pulled back slightly and felt Brett sighing against his lips, which moved something inside him, let it fall into place as he went for another kiss that Brett returned eagerly. 

 

By the time they heard a knock on the door, hours had passed and it was the middle of the night, but Nolan and Brett hadn’t moved very much, were still lying on the little couch fully dressed, a lot closer maybe, but it was all innocent. It felt amazing to take all the time in the world for each other, to breathe each other in and hold hands, for Nolan to let his head rest above Brett’s heart and bury his fingers in the mess of hair on his head, too feel his beard scratchy against his face and fingers, to just be close. 

 

Maybe it was strange for them to move at such a considerably slower pace than before, now that they were actually together, maybe it made little sense for them to practically have sex over their phones for weeks only to take three big steps back as they were finally facing each other for real, but maybe it was exactly that - the fact that for the first time, they felt like they had all the time, like there was nothing keeping them apart, nothing that would come between them anymore, nothing stopping them from setting their own pace, relishing the long missed proximity before they even thought about going any further. 

 

“Hey guys,” Liam said as his face appeared in the doorframe. 

 

Nolan instinctively moved away from Brett, who tightened his hold around him and pulled him back against his chest, stroking his neck and cheek. 

 

“Hey, sorry,” Brett answered, his voice even lower than it usually was, his lips kiss-swollen. “Did you guys want to go to bed? You didn’t have to stay away so long.” 

 

Nolan hadn’t realized that they were in the cabin that Brett shared with his friends, although it made all the sense. 

 

“It’s fine,” Liam winked. “Theo has actually planned ahead and gotten a hotel room.”

 

Brett laughed and Nolan had to smile as well. He really liked Theo. “A hotel room, huh?” 

 

“Yeah,” Liam shrugged. “For the two of you, obviously.” 

 

Brett looked down at Nolan with a smile that made his insides melt into a little happy puddle. “I don’t know about you,” he whispered, “but I’m pretty comfortable here. I mean, we can totally switch the coach for an actual bed, but other than that…” 

 

“Yeah,” Nolan nodded, turning his head to Liam, “you guys can have the hotel room if you want.” 

 

“See, I told you my plan was awesome,” they heard Theo saying from outside. Once more, Liam rolled his eyes. 

 

“Alright then, see you tomorrow.” 

 

“Hey Liam,” Brett called his best friend because the door fully closed behind him. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Thanks, man.” 

 

Liam smiled and nodded lightly before he disappeared from the doorframe and left them alone again. 

 

“You have the greatest friends ever,” Nolan noted. 

 

“Agreed,” Brett nodded, pressing a kiss onto Nolan’s forehead. 

 

“And a bed? Did I get that right?” 

 

“My smart boy,” Brett laughed, “you got that right.” With one swift moment, he was up on his feet, holding a surprisedly squealing Nolan in his arms as if he weighed nothing, carrying him across the room bridal style, laying him down on top of a neatly made bed carefully, retreating his strong arms until Nolan grabbed him by the shoulders. 

 

“Kiss me again,” he begged. “This time, we can do all the things we want…” 


	10. Chapter 10

“Nolan,” Brett whispers, pulling away from his kissing lips, cupping his face while looking at him, a smile threatening to burst into a laugh. 

 

“What?” Nolan asks in confusion. He looks like he’s being woken up from a dream, his lips red and kiss-swollen, his eyes half lidded. 

 

“You have two different socks on,” Brett points out, following Nolan's gaze down to his feet that just kicked away his shoes. 

 

Nolan shrugs. “I didn't exactly have much time to dress up with Liam and Theo waiting at my door. I recall your best friend kindly offering to kidnap me. I had to hurry. Didn't want to spend the ride blindfolded or gagged.”

 

“I bet you'd look amazing blindfolded and gagged,” Brett winks. 

 

“I bet so would you,” Nolan replies, using Brett’s temporary distraction to his advantage and flipping them around, pushing Brett down onto the bed before climbing over him, knees at either side of Brett’s waist, ass slowly grinding against a still clothed, but definitely very hard dick. 

 

“Fuck,” Brett mutters. Of course, he didn’t expect Nolan to be anything less than absolutely gorgeous, infinitely arousing, simply perfect. The best sex of his life so far has been with Nolan, and that’s in spite of it all happening over the phone. Still, the reality almost takes his breath away. There Nolan is, right on top of him, arms slung around his neck, holding him close, his mouth greedy, nibbling and biting, his hips moving in maddening circles. 

 

Brett has to pull away and rest his forehead against Nolan’s chest for a second. He has to catch his breath and listen to the other boy’s heartbeat, has to give his brain time to understand that after torturous weeks they spent separated, it is now finally happening. Everything he’s wished for is now right in his arms. 

 

“Are you alright?” Nolan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He leans down and kisses Brett’s head. A part of Brett feels like crying. 

 

“More than alright,” he mumbles into Nolan’s shirt. “I’m still not sure I haven’t just died and am now in heaven.” 

 

After weeks of talking every single night, of getting to know each other, the general thought of being with Nolan by now feeling completely natural, it seems odd to be experiencing some things for the very first time. Brett knows exactly what Nolan’s voice sounds like and what makes him do those little desperate noises, but he’s never felt the hot breath against his ear as it’s happening. He knows what every single inch of Nolan’s body looks like, has never had any difficulties picturing it in his dreams, but it’s something entirely else to feel the smooth skin beneath his hands. He never knew the scent of a warm, turned on Nolan, and he’s dying to learn those things as well as he’s learned everything else about the boy. 

 

“I don’t know, Brett,” Nolan says with a dirty smile on his pretty lips, “do you think people get their dicks sucked in heaven?” He tugs at Brett’s sweater lightly until he raises his arms to allow Nolan to take it off. He shiver runs up and down his spine as Nolan’s hands start roaming his back. He’s never realized there could be so much intimacy in a simple act like that one, but it feels like he’s being touched in places that have belonged only to him so far, even if that definitely counts only on an emotional level and not physically. 

 

“I don’t care about heaven right now,” Brett says before he presses their lips together again. He’s never going to get enough of kissing Nolan ever in his life. 

 

Brett wonders how Nolan manages to touch him as softly as he does. His own hands find their way beneath Nolan’s shirt and push it up, caressing every inch of skin they can reach. It’s almost surreal how something so delicately looking can feel so warm and alive. 

 

Nolan pushes Brett down by the shoulders until his back is flat on the mattress with Nolan hovering above him. The wonderful lips wander from his mouth to his jaw and down his throat. While lust as almost killing Brett, Nolan seems to have no difficulties taking the whole thing slow. He always trails back up again, licking over the spots that made Brett moan again, giving them some extra treatment. He must be leaving a hundred little bruises behind on both sides of Brett’s neck and above his collarbones, his lips sucking, teeth scraping, tongue soothing the wonderful pain. 

 

Brett almost believes he’s melting, or dissolving into nothing but dense steam beneath Nolan’s touches. He’s lying as still as he can, long beyond fighting the moans that escape his parted lips, his body writhing, his hands shaking with the urge to touch, to hold onto something and never let it go again. Every time Nolan looks up at his face, Brett dies a little more inside. There are blonde, prettily messed up locks of hair in front of the pale green eyes and a light blush covering his face. Brett makes a mental note for later to kiss every single freckle on Nolan’s shoulders. 

 

"Does this feel anything like you've imagined?" Nolan wants to know, rubbing his palm over Brett's cock while his sinful mouth is moving closer and closer to one of his nipples.

 

Brett doesn't have to think very long. "Better," he answers, his voice sounding strangely thick with lust. "Because I can't touch myself the way you do. It never feels like your fingers on my skin. Nothing does, actually. Nobody's ever touched me like this."

 

Nolan chuckles against his chest, still palming at his aching erection. "Don't be ridiculous," he mumbles, "you're the man with the magical hands here."

 

Brett reaches for Nolan's wrist and pulls his hand up to his face. He kisses every single tip of a finger and then the soft palm. "How about you touch me properly and we'll see what those hands can really do to me?" Brett suggests. He can't help himself. He needs contact, friction. And he's not afraid to ask for it.

 

Nolan smirks and pulls his fingers away from Brett's mouth, running them down his chest and stomach, playing with the trail of hair leading him down to the button of his pants. Brett lets out a moan when Nolan frees his cock, pulling pants and underwear down all at once. He takes his sweet time dragging the fabric down Brett's legs, though, making sure to touch him there as well, pushing them apart on his way back up. Brett shudders as he reaches the sensitive insides of his thighs.

 

"Mm, you like that?" Nolan asks.

 

Like isn't exactly the right word, because there isn't a thing Nolan has ever done that Brett doesn't like, but out of all the things that help drive him wild, Nolan touching him between his legs, so close to his ass and dick but not quite, where his skin is pale and soft and almost hairless definitely belongs to his favorites so far.

 

"God, sweetheart," Brett moans, "that feels so incredible. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

 

The praise seems to motivate Nolan to explore Brett's body further. He pushes his legs apart and kneels between them, leaning forward. Brett closes his eyes and tries his best to keep breathing while he's being touched literally everywhere. A hand cups his cheek, a finger runs along his lip, a nail scrapes over his nipple. He bucks his hips. Nolan's hands wander up and down his body, roaming, leaving goosebumps in their wake, kneading, rubbing, caressing softly, varying the pressure, feeling just as intense on his arms or the sides of his torso as they do on his dick.

 

"I have a pretty good idea what I  _ want _ to do to you though," Nolan replies, and the next thing Brett knows, he's holding his legs up and kissing his legs. A quick peck just above his knee, then one at the other side. Nolan's tongue flicks out and licks over Brett's slightly trembling thigh. Again, he changes sides and gives the other thigh the same treatment. Brett's slowly losing his mind, although Nolan's mouth is still pretty far away from his twitching dick, but there's a promise in every brush of his lips against Brett's skin.

 

Brett's fingers dig into the sheets as Nolan resumes the kissing, leaving a wet trail from his knee to where his ass begins at either side until Brett starts whimpering desperately.

 

"Brett?" Nolan asks.

 

Brett almost can't get his brain to function well enough to form words. "Yeah?"

 

"What do we think about hickeys? Pubertal or hot?" Nolan asks.

 

"Hot," Brett decides, because what in the world is hotter than carrying Nolan's marks around on his body? To remind him every time he looks at them. To make it absolutely clear and visible who he belongs to from now on until all eternity.

 

"Good," Nolan smiles, "I was hoping you'd say that."

 

Brett forces his eyes open to look down at Nolan sitting between his legs, eyes his bared thighs and licking his lips in an almost predatory manner. Nolan is the prettiest predator for sure, looking like he wants to eat him, his lip twitching, baring his cute little fangs before he dives down and buries them in Brett's flesh.

 

Brett jumps a little and moans. He didn't expect Nolan to straight up bite him, but it feels so good that he tightens his fingers in Nolan's hair to keep his head right where it is. There are probably bitemarks where the other boy releases his skin from between his teeth, but a tongue comes out immediately to soothe the pain, a few sweet kisses following. Brett's grip allows Nolan to turn his head to the other side where he begins sucking. Nothing compares to the feeling of it, and when Brett looks down two minutes later, there are two little bruises forming next to Nolan's lips on him.

 

"Shit, I'm gonna fucking explode," Brett gives a warning. His dick is red and incredibly hard and leaking precum that pools on his stomach. He has to force himself not to touch it, has a feeling the patience will be worth it, although it's currently killing him.

 

"Not yet," Nolan says, "I'm not done here."

 

He changes sides again, his arms helping to hold Brett's weak legs spread apart as he continues to suck. He always pulls away again to kiss softly and lick and nibble, to rub his face against Brett's thighs, being so soft with him that it robs Brett of his breath when he's suddenly sucking again.

 

"Look at that," Nolan finally marvels, "doesn't that look absolutely beautiful. What a fucking piece of art." He runs two fingers along the inside of Brett's thigh, and Brett can definitely feel the bruises there as he does so, but it's the best kind of pain imaginable. He doesn't want it to stop, he just wants more, wants Nolan to touch the spot again and again, wants that feeling to ruin him, wants Nolan's body pressed between his legs. He wants to give himself to Nolan. And he wants Nolan to take him.

 

Once he's manages to tear his eyes open and raise up far enough to lean on his elbows, Brett almost faints. Both of his thighs are shimmering in a pale purple.  Nolan is definitely very much into this marking thing, not that he has any complaints about it. It's true, it looks pretty. It looks like Nolan has written his name all over him, at a spot that feels kind of vulnerable and intimate.

 

"Well then," Brett smiles, "looks like I'm yours now."

 

"Mine, huh?" Nolan asks. He sits up and crawls up until he can kiss Brett on the lips again, his tongue greedily demanding access to Brett's mouth, diving inside to explore. Brett moans when Nolan takes his cock in his hand, starting to lazily play around with it. He doesn't really grant him much friction, just holds it in his hand, pushes the foreskin down and up again, swirling his thumb over the swollen head, teasing. "Is this mine, too?" He asks.

 

"God, yes," Brett answers, bucking his hips to push himself further into Nolan's loose fist. "Yours alone."

 

"Mm, that means I get to do with it whatever I want?" Nolan smirks. He sits back and brings his second hand down as well. Only like that can he wrap his fingers around all of Brett's length, closing them more tightly now.

 

"If you that's what you want to do with it, yes, absolutely," Brett answers. He's so incredibly turned on that it doesn't take much. His own shaking is enough to move his dick slightly between Nolan's fingers. He's wet enough to make the whole thing easy and smooth.

 

"What if I have other ideas though?" Nolan asks with a smug smile. One of his hands moves to cup Brett's balls, squeezing them lightly.

 

"Keep talking," Brett begs. The movement of Nolan's fist around his tip is so minimal, it's rarely there, but it drives him closer to the edge of an orgasm nonetheless. What Nolan's doing to him is different from the way he always touches himself, but no less skilled or purposeful. Not a tiny bit less effective, on the contrary.

 

"I think I definitely want to taste you at some point," Nolan continues. "I've been watching you shooting your load through a phone screen too many times already. Not that it wasn't fucking amazing, but oh, what a waste. I could have licked you clean.  Aren't you curious, too? To see how far down I can take you?"

 

"Oh my god!" Brett groans the noise coming from deep down inside him, loud and out of control. Nolan is pushing him a little higher with every word spoken in the most sultry tone Brett's ever heard, with every stroke of his cock, every flick of his thumb, every little squeeze. He uses both hands, and Brett feels like he magically doubled the amount of nerve-endings in Brett's body, because that's the only logical explanation for his touches to feel the way they do.

 

Nolan doesn't increase his pace. He doesn't go faster or harder, but he doesn't have to. He knows exactly what he's doing, keeping two fingers at that sweet little spot at the underside of Brett's dick, just beneath the head, rubbing just lightly, keeping the tension high as his other hand wanders.

 

"Do you have any idea how many times I've dreamed about this?" Nolan keeps going, his voice only adding to the pleasure that slowly threatens to consume Brett. "Being able to touch you? I've seen you like this before, Brett. But it just wasn't the same. Now it's me who's doing this to you. Only me. You're going to come from my hands."

 

"Yeah," Brett nods, because it's not going to take much longer. His toes curl, that special tingly feeling starts sending waves through his body. His muscles strain towards Nolan's touch, his moans get even a little louder, his back arches off the bed.

 

"Come for me, Brett," Nolan says, and just as he says it, his hand tightens around Brett's thigh, fingernails digging into his skin, the rough touch bringing back the faint sting of pain caused by the collection of bruises there that Brett has almost forgotten. He was too distracted.

 

When Brett comes, he comes with his entire body instead of just his dick, spurting thick threads of cum across his stomach while crying out Nolan's name. His legs clench tight around Nolan's body, his arms almost cramp from how tightly he's clutching the sheets. It takes a few moment to come down from his high. The image of Nolan licking his own hand clean not exactly helping much with regaining control.

 

"Holy shit," Brett pants. "Man with the magical hands, huh? If you ask me, that's definitely you."

 

"I... didn't know," Nolan shrugs. "I don't think I've ever done this before. Exactly like this, I mean. I didn't know someone could... be so... responsive to me."

 

"Well, I didn't know anybody could make me feel this way," Brett answers, pulling Nolan down on top of him. They're both a little sweaty, some of Brett's cum drying between their bodies, but they couldn't be any happier in that moment.

 

They're together, finally. This is what he's been dreaming of, dozing off with the weight of Nolan's body on top of him and warm breath ghosting over the skin on his neck. The weeks that still lie ahead of them, all the extra time until Brett will finally be able to return to Beacon Hills, not even that can bring him down as he's inhaling Nolan's scent. He wasn't ready for any of it to happen on this day out of all days, didn't react the way he would have wanted to when the most beautiful boy in the world suddenly stood right in front of him, but he can't even be mad about it. It's worked out perfectly, after all. He knows what Nolan's lips taste like and there are a whole bunch of bruises blooming on his skin that will remind him for a while. This time, he doesn't need the dreams anymore. Nolan has surpassed everything he could have fantasized about. This time, instead of counting stars while he lies awake, he counts the little freckles on the bridge of Nolan's nose, kisses every single one softly.

 

"Hey Noley?" Brett asks after a while of silent slumbering. The weight of Nolan's body on top of his own feels like it's always been there, like it belongs there, like he needs it to find peace, and that though makes Brett smile to himself, because how crazy is that? It's literally the first time in his life that this is happening. How can it feel so natural?

 

"Yeah?" Nolan mumbles sleepily.

 

"Just checking if you're awake," Brett replies. He kisses the top of Nolan's head and runs his hand down Nolan's back.

 

"Keep going," Nolan tells him when he stops just at the waistband of the pants they didn't manage to get rid off earlier.

 

"Oh no," Brett smiles, "not like this. If we're doing this, we're doing it right."  He wriggles himself out from underneath Nolan and gets up on his knees, leaving Nolan on his belly while Brett settles over his still covered ass. He leans down and kisses Nolan's shoulder blade. "My turn, sweetheart," he whispers into his ear.


	11. Chapter 11

Hands down, Nolan has no idea how he’s supposed to survive this night. He’s lying on his stomach in a bed that smells like Brett all over, his pants still on but not his shirt, Brett kneeling above him, his lips travelling across Nolan’s back. He closes his eyes and focuses on the taste of Brett’s release on his tongue, basking in the reality of it for while. It’s happening. There’s no distance left between them. Brett’s kisses send shivers up and down his spine.

 

It’s magical, to have Brett’s hands on his skin at last. They’re so big and yet so soft, so warm. Every touch is deliberate and careful. Brett pays very close attention to every reaction of him, tracing the same spot again when Nolan moans, learning him by heart. It’s perfectly clear to Nolan that Brett isn’t putting his hands on him to take something for himself, but to give pleasure to Nolan, and it makes him feel more special than he thinks he’s ever been to anybody else before. He thinks he could stay like that forever, breathing in Brett’s scent while the other boy melts him into a puddle. 

 

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Brett starts nibbling at his neck, though, and then he grinds down against his ass at the same time, and suddenly it’s over with the innocent touches and the soft moans. As amazing as it feels, it’s by far not the only thing Nolan wants from Brett. He wants so much more now that he’s gotten a taste of him, now that everything seems attainable all of a sudden. 

 

Nolan raises his ass a little, giving his erection more room between his body and the mattress, pressing back against Brett, seeking contact. Brett chuckles and licks up a line along his neck, then whispers into his ear, “greedy boy.” 

 

Nolan won’t fight him in this. He’s greedy indeed, but who can blame him? First, they were so damn ridiculously shy and barely talked to each other. Then, all they could do for weeks was getting on the phone. Not that he has any complaints about the hours the two of them spent cuddling before they finally got into bed together, but now that Brett’s dick is rubbing against his ass and the possibility is right there, he can’t fucking wait any longer, so he cranes his neck far enough to be able to kiss Brett on the lips. It’s sloppy and demanding, and he can only hope it makes it clear to Brett what he needs now. 

 

“Gotcha, sweetheart,” Brett mumbles as he pulls away, both his hands coming around him and sliding between him and the bed to his front, slowly sliding down over his stomach and inside his pants.

 

“Oh fuck!” Nolan moans when Brett finally holds him in his hand. Those skilled, soft fingers with the rough patches are finally wrapped around his cock, and he can’t stop himself from moving under Brett’s weight, pushing himself up and down, getting Brett to stroke along with his rhythm. It feels incredible. Absolutely fantastic.

 

Brett’s other hand undoes the button of his pants. His cock is released, which almost physically pains him, but then he realizes that Brett is pulling his pants and underwear down at once, freeing him of those entirely unnecessary clothes. He’s finally as naked as Brett is, and he’s pretty damn desperate. 

 

When Nolan’s pants come off and Brett throws them away only to settle back on the bed, he doesn’t straddle Nolan like he did before. Nolan spreads his legs as soon as they’re freed of his pants and makes room for Brett to sit between them. They’ve already established how real the thirst is, so why pretend like he’s got any time to waste? 

 

Instead, Nolan opens his legs and sticks his ass up into the air, rubbing himself against the sheets, practically fucking into the bed he’s lying on until Brett’s strong hands are at his hips, holding him still. 

 

“You need to stop doing that, or you’re going to drive me insane,” Brett growls. His breath is ghosting over Nolan’s lower back. 

 

“Easy for you to say,” Nolan replies, “you already got off tonight. Me on the other hand, I’ve literally been waiting for weeks.” 

 

“And would you say it’s been worth it, Noley?” Brett asks, nibbling at the skin where his narrow waist flows into the curve of his ass.

 

“So far I have no reason to think otherwise,” Nolan answers with a chuckle, “but to be completely honest, I’m still waiting for your main argument.” 

 

Brett laughs dryly, but doesn’t respond. He doesn't have to. Some things are better done than said. With both hands at once, he smacks Nolan’s ass and forces a loud groan out of him, his hips once again bucking back up. Brett presses him back down into the mattress, kneading his ass, pulling the cheeks apart, blowing warm air over his hole. 

 

“Fuck, yes,” Nolan sighs. He needs it so badly. He’ll take anything, really, trusting Brett completely when it comes to making him feel good, but he also absolutely agrees with what seems to be Brett’s idea that some ass-eating is next on their agenda. 

 

“Say that again, sweetheart,” Brett purrs, and then he bites down into the flesh of his ass. 

 

Nolan likes it a little rough. He also likes it soft and careful. And what kills him for good is when he gets both at once, gentle fingers stroking his skin while teeth are buried in his ass, sweet kisses soothing the faint stings of pain, a wet tongue exploring him while fingernails dig into his skin. 

 

“Fuck!” Nolan moans when Brett licks over his rim, swirling his tongue over it. “Yes!” He adds when the pressure increases. He strains towards it, his knees digging into the bed as well as his arms while he’s trying his best to get his ass up and as close to Brett’s wonderful, warm mouth as possible. He’s loving every second of it, it feels fucking fantastic, but Nolan can’t get enough. 

 

Not that he didn’t know this before, but Nolan still has to grin when Brett starts sucking and he thinks that this man must be able to read his mind. His fists tighten around the pillow he’s burying his face in, his moans turn louder and more greedy, they come from deep inside him, and he allows them to roll off his tongue, because he’s too far gone to even attempt to keep himself under control. 

 

All he has to do is to spread his knees a little wider, and Brett reacts instantly, pulling back a little and then pushing his tongue right inside him when he’s back, sending a tremble through Nolan’s entire body. He’s starting to feel weak, trying to keep himself up on his arms and legs, but he doesn’t know how, or how much longer, because his leaking dick is being rubbed against his stomach and the bed while Brett his fucking his ass with a damn skilled tongue, robbing him of the last bits of sanity he was trying to hold onto. 

 

It happens just a moment later, that funny thing where Nolan’s body goes beyond weakness and to a place where anything is possible, where his brain is no longer the organ in charge, where the commandos seem to come from either his dick or his ass or somewhere in his stomach, where every touch feels like more contact than he’s known before, where Brett is simply closer than any other person has ever gotten, although it’s ridiculous, and not at all explicable, but it feels like he’s exploding, and all Nolan wants is for the feeling to never stop. 

 

It’s the moment where every move and every word falling from his lips has the one single purpose to get him closer to his orgasm, and Brett is struggling to hold him down even if technically, he should be a lot stronger than Nolan, but maybe it’s just that Brett likes it, the wriggling and the squirming, the desperate attempts to get closer, to get more pleasure out of it. Nolan feels a little cheeky, so he tries to raise his ass, to push himself up onto his knees. He wouldn’t mind getting his brains fucked out now, so why not make that perfectly clear to Brett? 

 

“Someone can’t keep still, huh?” Brett remarks, pushing him back down, getting his mouth back to where it was, sucking a little harder. 

 

“Ah! Fuck!” Nolan groans again, but Brett is right. He can’t keep still. “Brett,” he presses out breathlessly, “I need… I need to…” 

 

“What is it, honey?” Brett asks sweetly, rubbing two fingers over his stretched out hole while his mouth isn’t there. “Tell me what you need, baby. I’ll give it to you.” 

 

“Are you sure?” Nolan wants to know, because he hasn’t exactly asked this thing of anyone ever before. He also hasn’t done it, but he knows he wants to more than anything else in that very moment. 

 

“Absolutely,” comes Brett’s instant reply, followed by a wet kiss to his back. 

 

Nolan looks back over his shoulder and focuses on the mesmerizing blue of Brett’s eyes. “Will you let me ride your face?” He asks. 

 

“Oh my god,” Brett asks, moving away from his current position immediately and lying down on his back right next to Nolan, reaching for his face to pull him down for a kiss before he breaks apart with a dirty grin. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

 

Brett licks his lips as he lies his head back down, clearly waiting. In spite of the rush of adrenaline and arousal, Nolan does feel a little bit intimidated by the situation. Sure, he’s asked for it, and it’s not like Brett seems to mind it one bit. He’s also not going to let the chance slip, but he still feels weirdly self conscious as he places his knees at either side of Brett’s head, looking down into dark and lustful eyes, slightly parted lips right beneath. 

 

Nolan leans back, rubbing his ass back and forth on Brett’s strong chest. 

 

“You tell me when you want me to stop, yeah?” He says, because he feels like that’s the nice thing to do before you sit on somebody’s face, but Brett has no time for misplaced shyness. He simply lifts his head and kisses Nolan’s thighs, sucking and nibbling a bit until Nolan is almost as desperate as he was a minute earlier. 

 

With a sweet, innocent smile, Brett moves closer, and the noises he makes when he sucks Nolan’s balls into his mouth are so far from sweet and innocent that Nolan thinks he’s losing his mind - again. He can’t resist reaching down for his dick and giving it a few slow strokes before holding the tip right into Brett’s face. The other boy react as anticipated, closing his pretty lips around it, letting his tongue swirl, sucking lightly, bobbing his head as well as he can in his compromised position. 

 

Nolan allows himself to enjoy the feeling for a moment, and then he pulls back, because he’s not going to last much longer if he lets Brett suck his cock like that. There are wet strings connecting his tip to Brett’s lips, and the sight alone makes him moan loudly, because that must be one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. 

 

“Come on, baby,” Brett nudges him, bringing his large hands to Nolan’s asscheeks, pushing him up a little, “I want to taste you, you delicious little boy.” 

 

Nolan mutters a low “fuck” as Brett slides down beneath him at the same time as he pushes Nolan’s ass a little further forward, and then his head falls back as Brett’s tongue is back between his spread cheeks, teasing his hole. 

 

Nolan might be a little shy about the whole thing at first, but not for long, simply because it’s not possible. Brett definitely knows what he’s doing with his mouth on an ass, but in some way, with Nolan up on his knees and free to move, it feels even better than when he was pinned down on the mattress. 

 

He starts moving his hips slowly, back and forth. It takes only a few seconds until they’ve worked it out, until their movement fit together perfectly. Nolan learns how to tell Brett to go faster or harder by squeezing his thighs a little tighter. When every nerve-ending in his body starts shooting fireworks, he can move around as much as he wants this time, his hands free to pull Brett’s hair a little, or to help spread Nolan’s ass, or to play with his own nipples, or grip his cock tightly around the base to keep it from exploding, if just for a moment longer. 

 

The best part about Nolan rubbing his ass over Brett’s face like the desperate boy he is, is the fact that Brett apparently hasn’t shaved in a few days. Nolan is fucking sensitive between the cheeks of his ass, but he can’t get enough of the feeling of beard stubble scraping over it. It’s just a tickle when he lifts his ass a bit, but he’s the one setting the pace, deciding how much contact he can take, and every now and then, he presses back down and tries to keep still while the scratchy beard is burning is ass in the most perfect of ways and all he can do is curse his way through it. 

 

“Holy fucking shit, Brett,” he breathes out, panting. He barely touches himself. Not his dick anyway, because he’s afraid he’ll come in a matter of seconds, but the rest of his body? He can’t keep his hands still. It’s too much to take otherwise, without him rubbing over his thighs or pinching his nipples or tugging at his own hair. When Brett lifts his head up and starts fucking his ass with his tongue in a quick and steady rhythm, Nolan wraps his fingers around his own throat, making it hard to breathe for himself, turning his moans into strangled sobs. 

 

“Please,” he begs, although who knows what he’s asking for. “Brett, please.” 

 

Another half cry escapes him and then he’s being pushed down all of a sudden, because obviously, Brett knows better than himself what he needs, manhandling him until he’s on his back with his trembling legs parted widely. One of Brett’s long fingers slips inside him easily, put it reaches much further than his tongue did before, making Nolan feel a whole bunch of new sensations at once, but it isn’t enough, so Brett reaches out one arm and chokes him just the way he did to himself, except better, because Brett’s hand is so huge that he can almost close it around Nolan’s throat, and the weight of it against his adam’s apple feels like everything when he swallows. 

 

As easy as that, Nolan is right at the edge. He looks down at himself to find his cock red and swollen. Every brush of Brett’s finger against his prostate makes him whimper, and when Brett leans down and licks a wet stripe up the length of his dick, Nolan is done, shooting his load while making uncontrollable noises. 

 

“Fucking hell, Noley,” Brett mumbles, removing his hand from around his throat, kissing his sore neck softly. “You’re fucking incredible.” 

 

Nolan feels boneless and incapable of forming proper words. All he can do is relax all his muscles and sink down into the mattress, feeling like a melted puddle while Brett covers his entire body in innocent kisses, licking up the come on his stomach carefully, setting his legs back down. 

 

It’s a whole new experience, feeling his heartbeat slowly calming down and his dick going soft while something inside him is still provided with some sort of tension, his body as sensitive and responsive to Brett’s little licks and pecks as never before. It’s because it’s Brett, he realizes. It’s because the feeling isn’t gone just because the sex is over. It’s because his body knows he’s craving more than the satisfaction of his physical needs. 

 

“Hey Brett?” Nolan asks. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Come up here.” 

 

Brett obliges and crawls up until they’re face to face and Nolan can pull him into his arms, feeling his heart beating against his chest and his breath on his shoulder. They’re together in a way that he’s been wishing for for weeks, even if he didn’t know before just then what it would feel like. It’s just been a fluttery, nagging thing inside his stomach, keeping him on the edge, but now it’s calm, because he’s found what it’s been making him look for. 

 

“I want to sleep with you,” Nolan says. 

 

“Well, I figured, but, you know, tomorrow…” 

 

“No,” Nolan whispered, smiling, “I mean, I want to sleep with you. I want to lie in your bed with you just like this. I want to fall asleep in your arms. I will pull you closer if I wake up tonight, and I will have a terrible bedhead in the morning, but I want you to see that too. I want to keep you from getting up with cuddles instead of coffee. Isn’t that what we’ve been waiting for? Being able to do that?” 

 

“Yes,” Brett nods. “It absolutely is. And I will be the happiest man on earth, Nolan, holding you in my arms while you sleep, waking up to that gorgeous face of yours tomorrow morning. I  _ am  _ the happiest man on earth right now.” 

 

“Second happiest,” Nolan corrects him with a grin. 

 

“Uh-uh,” Brett makes, shaking his head. He brushes a few strands of sweaty hair out of Nolan’s face and kisses him. “You’re going to have to fight me over that.” 

 

“How about we do that tomorrow?” Nolan suggest. “Whoever fucks the other’s brains out first gets to be right.” 

 

“Sounds like a perfectly diplomatic solution to me,” Brett agrees. 

 

Nolan feels tired. Exhausted, actually, from the long and exciting day and all the adrenaline production his body had to manage. Sleep calls for him, and he doesn’t try to fight it, just concentrates on the feeling of Brett’s hands roaming his back and the smell of him in Nolan’s nose as he slowly drifts off. With a heart filled with a happiness and no wishes left to ask of the universe, he sleeps soundly that night, dreaming about nothing, because nothing compares to reality anymore. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful friend Francis made a beautiful, beautiful artpiece for this chapter. Check it out [here](https://osirismind.tumblr.com/post/180863043647/our-hands-by-flyde)!

What Brett wakes up to in the morning is the single most beautiful sight in the world. White sheets are partly covering Nolan’s face. It’s adorable. Whereas Brett needs to breathe fresh air when he sleeps, needs to leave his arms and hands above the blanket and maybe one foot too, Nolan wraps himself up like a cute little burrito.

 

A wave of shiny blond hair falls over the pillow, he reaches out to touch it, combs his fingers through the soft strands. Out of all the versions of his Nolan that he’s witnessed so far, Nolan the grocery store employee with his red and green polo shirt, Nolan the sinful voice on the phone, Nolan the shirtless selfie master, Nolan the video chat sex god, Nolan the blushing mess at his door, early morning in Brett’s bed Nolan is still the most beautiful he’s ever seen.

 

His eyes are closed, the long golden lashes resting on his cheeks. He looks relaxed, peaceful, happy. His lips are pink and a bit chapped and just slightly parted, warm puffs of breath escaping them. A faint shadow is covering his jaws. All this time, Brett has thought the pretty innocent little face makes him weak, the smooth, pale skin and the sweet lips and the blue eyes, but the beard stubble kills him.

 

It was dark for the most part of the previous night that they spent together, finally in each other’s arms, and Brett had his eyes clenched shut for a good part of it as well, but now the sun is shining through the window of his temporary residence and Nolan is still asleep and he finally has the time to stare and admire and feel himself loving every inch of that boy next to him with all his heart and soul. He can finally count the freckles and it makes him feel like he’s going to burst with pure happiness.

 

Half an hour passes. Brett still isn't done looking. He can't avert his eyes. Nolan makes a soft little noise that has him biting his lip in order to suppress his whimper, but then Nolan turns around on his back and Brett has lost the fight against his body's urges. Nolan's arm rests against his upper body, and the sheets have slipped down while moving, exposing just a bit of his chest.

 

It's not like Brett hasn't seen it before. He has. On multiple pictures and during their video chats and last night. But in that moment, he knows he hasn't seen enough. He hasn't looked close enough. There's hair.

 

This might not be a reason for other people to freak out like he does, but there is Nolan, and Nolan's bare chest, and there's hair on it. Brett feels faint. He's lucky they're in bed already. He wouldn't be able to stand on his own two feet right now.

 

He wonders whether Nolan will wake up if he touches it. Maybe, but there's no way to keep his hands to himself. He needs to feel it beneath his own fingertips, then he can die in peace. Brett lifts a hand and reaches out carefully, stopping with his fingers just above Nolan's heaving and sinking chest, waiting.

 

Nothing but even breaths.

 

Brett lowers his hand. Slowly. Trembling. He will never go through a minute of his life not being hard, he thinks in that moment, staring.

 

He has to press his other hand over his own mouth to keep himself quiet when he finally makes contact. Nolan's skin is so warm. He tries to be as careful and gentle as he possibly can while running one single finger down the boy's chest. It must be the single most arousing thing he's ever done, judging by his dick's reaction. Soft hairs tickle the pad of his fingertip. Brett feels like dying. In a very, very good way. Like he's in heaven and he wants to stay.

 

Carefully, Brett tugs at the sheets covering Nolan up, pulling them down, practically in slow motion. He isn't entirely sure why he doesn't want Nolan to wake up just yet, but he doesn't. He needs just a little more time to savor the image presenting itself before him. Just two inches or so. In the end, it's Nolan who helps him by shifting a bit, and there goes all of Brett's composure.

 

Muffled by his own hand, the moan Brett lets out is still audible, but who can blame him? He's staring at more chest hair, and then a pink pretty nipple in the middle of it. Never in his life has he been so desperate to lick something.

 

Brett needs to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, feeling Nolan’s chest heaving and sinking beneath his touch. When he opens his eyes again, he dies all over, and he thinks that in that moment, he understands what art is.

 

“How can you be so perfect?” Brett murmurs, not intending to wake Nolan up, he’s just speaking his thoughts. 

 

Nolan turns his head a little and moves closer, snuggling against Brett’s shoulder. 

 

“My precious boy,” Brett whispers in Nolan’s hair, pressing a kiss on top of his head. “I’ll never let you go again.” 

 

“Never?” Nolan suddenly mutters, sounding hoarse and sleepy and so damn sexy that again, Brett feels like he might faint. 

 

Brett tightens his arms around Nolan, pulling him close against his beating heart, breathing him in. Never in his life before has he felt more content with the moment he was in, wishing for nothing except for things to stay the same. 

 

“Never,” Brett answers with a smile. He kisses Nolan’s shoulder, and then consequently, he has to kiss his neck too, and then the collarbone that’s standing out from the smooth skin so deliciously, and then there’s so much more delicate skin presenting itself to him, and Brett can’t stop worshipping every inch of it with his lips. 

 

“You know what?” Nolan asks, smoothing one hand through Brett’s hair, lazily playing with it. 

 

“What?” Brett wants to know, not interrupting the kisses. 

 

“I think this is it,” Nolan declares, beaming down at him. 

 

“This is what?” 

 

“What I’ve been waiting for,” Nolan says. “Last night, I thought ‘This must be the best night of my life.’ and now I think that this is definitely the best morning ever. Waking up in your arms. This is what I wanted, Brett. This. You. Us.” 

 

Brett can only smile and tilt his head to kiss Nolan properly. He was filled to the brim with pure, blissed out happiness before, but hearing that Nolan feels just the same way does something to his heart that he didn’t think would be possible. 

 

“I love you,” Brett whispers against Nolan’s smiling lips before he can stop himself, because that’s what the thing his heart is doing means, and there’s not a doubt about it on his mind. 

 

Nolan looks surprised at first, pale blue eyes wide, boring into his own, but two seconds later, two hands come to cup his face and caress his cheeks softly, almost as softly as the kiss on his lips that follows. “I love you too.” 

 

“You do?” Brett’s heart is hammering inside his chest like crazy. He didn’t mean to drop those three words on Nolan this early, mostly because he didn’t expect this very reaction that kind of almost sounds too good to be true. 

 

Nolan laughs, making Brett’s absolute favorite noise in the whole world. There’s this sparkle in his eyes that gives him such a more intense vibe of aliveness than any other person Brett knows. 

 

“You literally changed my life the day you turned up in front of my store,” Nolan replies. “I went crazy, Brett. I’ve spent weeks talking to you over the phone in every free minute of my day, and now I’m here, god knows where, and I have no idea what time it is or when I’ll have to be back for my next work shift or how I’ll get there, but I don’t even care. All I care about right now is you, and the fact that we’re together. I’ve been waiting so long for us to be together. I knew I’d be so happy once I could finally see you. But this?” He gestures at their entangled bodies and smiles. “This is so much better than what I ever dared to dream of.” 

 

“You’re not real,” Brett breathes out, kissing him. “You can’t be.” 

 

“I am,” Nolan replies, kissing him back. “Do I need to show you?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

They smile more than they kiss, hands roaming and finding new places to touch another, desperate to find more ways to hold on, to make clear how much they need the other, how fiercely they’ll be holding onto what they’ve finally found. And then the kisses deepen, lips parting to let the other in, Nolan’s body shifting, his arms pulling Brett on top of him, his legs spreading and wrapping around him until they’re full on making out, their dicks caged between their bodies and rubbing against each other. Brett can feel Nolan growing hard almost as well as he can feel the same happening to himself. 

 

Now’s the time, he thinks as he pulls away from Nolan’s lips and begins kissing his way down along his throat and across his chest instead, feeling the blonde little hairs tickling the tip of his nose and goosebumps rising. Nolan shudders as he gives one nipple a careful lick, a hand suddenly tugging at Brett’s hair.  

 

Brett takes all the time they now have, nuzzles his nose through the fuzz splattered over Nolan’s chest and teases both nipples with his lips and tongue, then his teeth, nibbling, biting cautiously, making Nolan thrust up his hips every time with a low moan. 

 

“What’s going on down there, sweetheart?” Brett asks with a smirk. “You want to fuck something?” 

 

Nolan lets out another groan and grinds up against him. “Why? You volunteering?” He searches for Brett’s lips and captures them in another kiss, sloppier and hungrier this time than before. 

 

“Hell yes,” Brett answers. “For you? Anytime.” He remembers all the times Nolan has made him come before, all the times he’s looked at that gorgeous face on the screen of his phone, listened to his sinful voice and pretended it was actually Nolan when he’s fucked himself into oblivion. 

 

Nolan allows him to play around with his nipples for a bit longer until he seems to become a little impatient, rutting against him and making perfect sex noises. Brett can feel Nolan pushing up, hands on his shoulders directing him off of him. He’s smart enough to retrieve some lube and a condom from the little dresser next to his bed before they go any further. 

 

“Give me that,” Nolan tells him as he gets back into the narrow bed, pushing Brett down on his back. “I’m taking care of you, baby.” 

 

Brett doesn’t have any complaints, lies down with Nolan half on top of him. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss anybody so much, their lips finding their way back to another  by instinct as if they’re drawn together like magnets. He can’t help the absolutely urgent need to make Nolan feel good, to remind him with every kiss and every touch how deeply he loves him. 

 

Nolan uncaps the lube and slicks his fingers up while still kissing Brett breathless. He hooks one leg around Brett’s, pulling it to the side, making Brett expose himself without feeling vulnerable, bringing one hand down and stroking his dick. Nolan’s ministrations are unlike anything Brett has ever experienced before. They’re not about chasing satisfaction. Nolan doesn’t go for the quick and easy way, doesn’t just rub over the same spot again that makes Brett twitch and moan. 

 

The touches are warm and soft and careful, loving. Nolan adds enough lube to make it all smooth and easy, closing his fingers around the length of Brett’s dick and looking down just to see how it looks. He touches every bit there is to touch, goes for the swollen head so gently that it’s almost not possible. He rubs his thumb over the weeping slit and spreads the pre come around, then goes back to playing with the weight of Brett’s cock in his hand. 

 

It’s like everything Nolan has ever done to him, fucking fantastic in ways he wasn’t familiar with before, promising him even greater things that he suddenly can’t wait for. Brett clings to Nolan’s shoulders as his thighs are gently nudged apart, Nolan’s hand massaging them before it settles between them, rubbing through the crack between his cheeks. 

 

“I’ve waited so long for you to touch me like this,” Brett whimpers, drawing Nolan’s attention back up to his face, receiving another deep and passionate kiss. “Your hands are… fuck. Everything.” Brett can feel the rough patches on Nolan’s fingertips that come from strumming the strings of his guitar while playing, and it drives him crazy. 

 

As well as he can, Brett wraps his own fingers around the base of Nolan’s dick and begins stroking it slowly, feeling how it makes Nolan lose a little bit of his composure, but it certainly can’t hurt. 

 

“ _ You’re  _ everything,” Nolan says, circling his entrance and coating it in lube, teasing for a sweet long moment before he presses against it, but not inside, waiting for Brett to do that for him, to stem his feet into the mattress and push himself down just an inch, his moan swallowed by Nolan’s mouth as he’s finally stretched open by one finger. 

 

“That feels so good,” Brett breathes out while pumping Nolan’s cock a little faster, trying to get him to set the same pace with the finger inside him, grabbing Nolan by the neck and kissing him, fucking his mouth with his tongue to show his hunger. 

 

Nolan relents and starts moving his finger, not just in and out but in circling motions, crooking it, making Brett feel like he’s going to explode from just that, because even if it’s not what he’s out for, it’s definitely enough to ruin him. 

 

Nolan’s hips start meeting Brett’s movements in the same moment as a second finger presses inside him. They moan simultaneously, and then there’s a pull between the two of them, the tension that keeps them close shifting from wanting something to  _ wanting something,  _ something in particular, something they both agree on without having to speak it out. 

 

Brett spreads his legs further and Nolan moves above him. They kiss, Brett pulling Nolan’s hair. Nolan pushes Brett’s leg up with one hand on his thigh. When Brett sees him reaching for the condom and opening the package, his entire body is shaking with the overwhelming feeling of  _ it’s finally happening _ , and then it’s there, both of them giving themselves to each other and taking everything gratefully, tearing the walls down that life tried to build between them. 

 

They stare into each other’s eyes as Nolan sinks down inside Brett, and the moment is so  _ big  _ in itself, it needs nothing more than silent looks and intertwined fingers, puffy breaths and a few seconds to get their heads wrapped around the reaity that they have everything they wanted now. 

 

Nolan moves slowly and carefully, pushing in one more inch and then pulling out again, rewarding every bit more that Brett takes moaning contently with a sweet kiss. This time, with no distance left between them and no fears of their dreams staying just dreams forever, there are no dirty words or harshly spoken commands, there’s no shyness and secret hoping not to scare the other away with what they like. 

 

They move just slightly but in perfect sync, kissing and kissing and kissing, holding each other’s hands and gazes. Brett barely does anything more than trembling around Nolan, savoring the feeling of being filled up by him, waves of pleasure flooding him that he’s helpless against, which is fine as long as he’s in Nolan’s arms.

 

They’re not loud, and they’re not wild. They’re not fucking each other’s brains out. Nolan and Brett have found their own ways of rocking each other’s world. With whispered confessions and loving kisses they push each other higher. Nolan buries himself in Brett again and again, going deep instead of fast and hard.

 

“I love you,” Nolan says with his lips attached to the corner of Brett’s mouth, and he’d be getting the same in return if Brett wasn’t losing his speech while coming without even having to be touched, clenching around Nolan, his dick spasming as it continues to shoot come across his stomach. Nolan kisses him through it and then comes himself, face buried against Brett’s neck, breathing heavily. 

 

They lie on the bed like this after, Nolan on top of him, their hands joined together, sweaty skin and eskimo kisses being shared for god knows how long before it starts getting cold. 

 

“Breakfast?” Brett asks, mumbling into Nolan’s hair. 

 

“Shower?” Nolan asks back. 

 

“Sounds lovely.” 

 

*

 

Nolan feels free to throw on one of Brett’s sweaters after stepping out of the shower. It’s not like he had any time to pack a fresh set of clothes when Liam and Theo picked him up on the previous day, but more than that, he’s been wanting to steal one ever since he saw Brett wearing it. He doesn’t know why it seems so important to him, to be wearing a sweater that’s way too big for him and that he’s going to have to give back eventually, but it does. 

 

Brett doesn’t seem to mind when he enters the little living area of the cabin where Brett has been preparing breakfast for both of them. It makes Nolan go all mushy inside, to see Brett putting things from the tiny kitchen to the tiny table and arranging everything so it looks pretty. It’s so much more domestic than he’s thought they would be anytime soon, and it makes his heart melt, even before his eyes land on the flowers that stand in a regular drinking glass on the table. 

 

Nolan smiles to himself and reaches out for a pretty yellow blossom. “They’re beautiful. Where did you get them?” 

 

“The flowers?” Brett asks, a faint blush creeping down his neck. “Uhm, there’s like, a meadow outside, not that far. I kind of noticed a while ago that it had some nice flowers. You like them?” 

 

Brett has no idea that Nolan  _ knows,  _ but it’s okay, and it doesn’t have to change in that very moment, because Nolan believes in a future now, in enough time for the two of them to get around to those things. 

 

“I love them,” he answers simply, walking over to press a kiss on Brett’s cheek. 

 

*

 

“Hey Noley?” Brett asks as they’re sitting together and eating, shoving all the food Brett has had in his fridge down their hungry throats. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Will you do me a favor and keep that sweater?” Brett asks, pointing at his own sweater hanging loosely from Nolan’s wiry figure. “Take it home with you.” 

 

“Yeah,” Nolan nods. “Why?” 

 

Brett looks at him for a moment, and then down. “I don’t know, it’s kinda… it’s…” 

 

“It’s a  _ boyfriend  _ thing to do,” Nolan finishes his sentence. He gets it. 

 

“Yeah,” Brett agrees, beaming up at him. 

 

“I’ll keep it,” Nolan promises. “Take it home with me.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that again, I have added one more chapter, and again, the "last" one isn't truly the last one. The next one will be though, hopefully. (Honestly, at this point you should know better than to trust me when I say things like that.)

Nolan is working the late shift at the grocery store on Friday when Derek suddenly interrupts him. “Telephone for you,” he says, handing Nolan the phone, “an emergency, apparently.” 

 

Praying that every parent, sibling and grandparent he once had is still alive and well, Nolan answers the phone, catching Derek’s wide grin in the corner of his eye as the other man walks away, giving him some privacy. 

 

“Hello, this is Nolan.” 

 

“Sweetheart!” Answers the voice at the other end of the line with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. “Sorry to bother you at work, but you didn’t pick up your phone, so I looked up the number of the grocery store, and Derek said you weren’t too busy to hear some good news right now, so here we are.” 

 

“So… this is not an emergency?” Nolan asks, slowly making his way to the back of the store. There’s the office to his right where he could comfortably sit and chat with Brett for a few minutes, maybe even seize the opportunity for a quick coffee break, but he opts for the left and the storage area, sitting on the same giant box in dim light where he’s been sneaking away to during work to reply to Brett’s text messages for weeks. 

 

“Well, depends. It kind of is.”

 

“What? Did something happen? Oh god, don’t tell me you got hurt. Don’t tell me there are any less than ten fingers on your hands in total.” Nolan is currently imagining the absolute worst case scenario, where the entire project they’d been working on crashed down on Brett and he barely survived, now calling to let Nolan know that he’s paralyzed and will never return home to Beacon Hills again. It would be just their look. He might be a tiny bit dramatic, but life has proven itself to be a bitch like that, so it would be really nice of Brett to freaking say something to calm him down. Now. 

 

“Mm, okay, no, it’s not an emergency, probably,” Brett finally admits. “But important nevertheless, my sweet boy. No need to worry. I’m fine.”

 

“Liam didn’t fall in a hole again?” 

 

“No. Liam is fine, too.” 

 

“What about-”

 

“Theo too. Jesus, Nolan. Everyone is fine, okay? I’m fine, you’re fine, and soon, we’re going to be even more than fine.” 

 

Nolan sucks in a breath, covering his mouth with one hand, not that Brett can see him. “Brett? What are you saying?” 

 

“Do you have your phone with you?” 

 

“Yeah,” Nolan answers, confused, fishing his phone from the pocket of his jeans. His heart is in his throat, beating like crazy, making him feel like he’s never going to be able to speak a single word again. What the hell is going on? Just when he thinks he’s ready to ask, the connection dies with a beep. 

 

Just a moment later, the phone in Nolan’s hand lights up with an incoming video call. He lets out a sigh of relief, although he still doesn’t understand. Seeing Brett’s face though, even with a far from ideal connection, calms something deep inside him, the by now familiar blue eyes anchoring his wild heart. The golden curls of Brett’s hair are damp and sticking to his forehead, there’s a bit of dirt smeared across his cheek. Nolan checks the time and realizes that like him, Brett must still be working. 

 

“Hello there,” Brett says softly, gifting him a smile that feels like actual sunlight upon his face, except that it warms his heart just as well. A part of Nolan still wants to blush and avert his eyes shyly when he sees it, still can’t believe that he of all people is the reason for it now, but the part that always wins is the one that wants to savour the image and beam back just as brightly. 

 

“Hey there, pretty boy.” 

 

“Oh fuck off,” Brett laughs, raising a hand to wipe away the dirt on his cheek, really only spreading it, but Nolan wasn’t being sarcastic in the first place. No amount of sweat and dirt and can make Brett anything less than the prettiest boy in the world to him. 

 

“Never,” he smiles. “So, what’s the great news?” 

 

Even more than before, Brett’s smile widens, spreading over his entire face. He looks happy, Nolan thinks, so happy that he can’t believe it’s him who did that. Moments of silent, dopey grinning pass. 

 

“Brett?” Nolan’s voice turns into a whisper. He’s only truly waiting for one specific answer, but he doesn’t want to curse it. It’s too important. “Tell me.” 

 

“One week,” is all that Brett says to him. 

 

“Wait, …”

 

“One week, baby,” Brett repeats. Nolan can only guess from his expression what his own face must be doing as he processes what he thinks Brett is telling him. 

 

“Really?” He barely says it, just breathes. For literal weeks, he’s been waiting. The one day, lasting less than twenty-four hours they actually spent together was magical without a doubt, but it hasn’t been making the longing and craving and missing any easier. On the contrary. “Don’t play with me,” Nolan begs, because he couldn’t take it. 

 

Brett’s smile fades a bit. He goes serious and quiet. “I’m not,” he promises. “Next Friday, I’ll be home, Nolan.”

 

“Oh my god,” Nolan whispers, his brain slowly grasping the entire meaning of the other boy’s words. “You’ll be home. I’ll be seeing you.” 

 

“We’ll be together.” 

 

Nolan is a gay disaster walking on two feet, and a hopeless romantic on top of that. He’s tired of waiting and so full of love that he feels like his heart is bursting, and with all of those things combined in one young boy, there’s no way to stop the happy tears from falling. 

 

“Hey, hey, baby boy,” Brett whispers gently. Nolan can almost feel the way he’d be caressing his cheek now, if only he could. “All is good,” Brett says, “we’re getting our happy ending.” 

 

“We’ll be together,” Nolan sniffs. He doesn’t want to seem like he has no grip of himself in front of Brett, but he can’t change how overwhelmed he is, how grateful and happy, and how deeply in love. 

 

“One week and I’ll be holding you in my arms, Noley. And giving you all the kisses I ever wanted to give you. Can you imagine? We’ll basically never stop kissing again. I’ll be holding your hand, and that will be a thing from then on. Our hands, you know. Belonging together.” 

 

Nolan hasn’t been dreaming of a single other thing than exactly what Brett is describing. Ever since Brett turned up at the store, back then just named The Hot Construction Worker in Nolan’s head, the one with the hands to die for and the only pair of eyes that Nolan has ever wanted to be on him forever. It was an unattainable fantasy at the time, him being horny for an exceptionally beautiful man, not yet aware of the magic that has been involved all along. 

 

“I can’t wait,” Nolan presses out, knowing that the next week will be the longest of his life, and also that Brett will be worth every eternal second of suffering through it. 

 

“Yeah, me neither,” an amused sounding voice chimes in from Brett’s end of the connection. “You guys have seriously taken this whole annoying couple thing to the next level.” 

 

“Hey Liam,” Nolan laughs. The conversation he and Brett just had isn’t exactly the one he would have wanted anyone to witness, but he’s long accepted Liam as a part of the package deal he’s in for, and after all, he won’t ever forget who drove him to see Brett that one time. 

 

“Hey Nolan.” 

 

Nolan can see Liam’s scruffy face a little too close to the camera for a moment just before a low, grumpy voice that must belong to Theo complains, “Guys, a little help over here maybe?” 

 

“Hold on babe,” Liam calls back, disappearing from Nolan’s phone screen. “Don’t lose any of those fingers.” 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Brett explains, “we’re kind of working here. Also, the need for all ten fingers to be attached to a person seems to be a thing, huh?” 

 

“Well, considering my plans for next Friday…” 

 

“Please don’t give me a boner right now,” Brett groans. 

 

“Yeah!” Liam yells from the distance. That guy must have pretty good ears. “Please don’t give him a boner right now, Noleyboy!” 

 

“Noleyboy? How did he- You know what? Don’t tell me.” 

 

“Sorry,” Brett shrugs, “guess I’m not that good at staying quiet. Anyway, I’m afraid I gotta go. Call you tonight? I kind of wanna hear about those plans you mentioned.” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Nolan replies, “I gotta go too. I have a few work shifts to switch. I’ll call you when I’m home.” 

 

“Later, sweetheart.” 

 

And with that Brett is gone, and Nolan is sitting all by himself in the huge storage room, his heart beating like a drum. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, taking in the fact that counting the days just turned into a counting  _ down  _ the days, and in only one week, everything he wants will be right in his arms.

 

“Derek?” Nolan calls as he emerges from the storage, finding his boss waiting in the office with a knowing grin on his face. 

 

“Yes, loverboy? How many free days do you need?” 

 

*

 

Seven days are left until Nolan and Brett will finally be together in Beacon Hills. The minute Nolan leaves work and gets on his way home, he’s calling Brett again. It’s the first time since they met that they’re in that exact situation; not yet together but waiting - waiting for the day they now know will come. Soon. 

 

“Sweetheart, I haven’t even showered yet. How did you get home so fast?” Brett laughs into the phone. Nolan knows he’ll never tire of hearing that sound. It brightens his day and his life and the entire world around him. 

 

“I’m on the way. Home, I mean, not to your shower, which is a shame, if you ask me,” Nolan sighs. 

 

“Oh, definitely. No objections there. I’m a dirty boy, Nolan. I think I could actually use two extra hands in the shower rather well.”

 

His tone goes from soft and caring to low and sultry in just a moment, which is just another point on the endless list of things Nolan loves about him. Their constant talking on the phone together has never been only about the filthy things they’ve whispered into each other’s ear and getting off to them. They’ve been getting to know another, listening to the other’s frustrations, sharing secrets. It’s how they got to the point where Nolan now feels like they’ve been together for ages, and all that’s been happening over the last couple of weeks is his partner being away on a work trip, that’s all. 

 

But then again, it’s not all. There’s also an immeasurable amount of passion and sexual tension building between the two of them with not enough ways to be resolved. Because as great as their night spent together, including an incredible morning, was, what Nolan wants is to learn all about Brett’s pleasure, to discover all the little things that make Brett go crazy for him. 

 

He wants to wait until the water’s hot enough and watch as it soaks Brett’s hair. He wants to push the other boy against the damp tiles in a shower cabin, wants to share the little space it offers and pay no mind to getting cleaned up. He wants to touch everywhere - literally everywhere, to devour every inch of muscles and skin. He wants to drop to his knees and see that look on Brett’s face, when his eyes get all hazy at first and then roll back before he clenches them shut and moans. He wants to feel hot water trickling down his back as he focuses on sucking cock, and Brett’s big, strong hand pulling at his wet hair. He wants to taste Brett’s release on his tongue and swallow it before the water can wash it all away. 

 

It’s undeniable that just the thought of Brett needing a shower arouses him, possibly more than anything else ever has. There’s no more watching porn or reading smutty fanfiction required, hasn’t been in weeks. It only takes one man to set all his nerve-endings on fire, if that man is right beside him or in an entirely different town altogether, it doesn't even matter. 

 

What’s more important than that, though, comes after. Nolan isn’t about the sex. He wants it, yes, god knows how badly, but he wouldn’t take the nights without the morning after. Thinking about sharing a shower, what Nolan imagines is the highest form of intimacy he knows. 

 

He pictures Brett standing still while he undresses him, slowly, his eyes seeking permission for every piece of clothing he removes. He wants to look, to really look, to be allowed to see Brett in all of his glory, to savour all of his beauty and tell him about it. He wants to run his fingers over the soft skin and trace the veins running up Brett’s forearms. He wants to place kisses everywhere that are more worshipping than they are demanding. There’s no need to be demanding when the most precious thing in the world is standing in front of him. 

 

Nolan wants to take care of Brett, wants to make sure the water has the right temperature and pressure. He wants to rub circles into his skin with a sponge, washing him from head to toe. He wants to be soft and thorough in a non-sexual way, wants to show that he can be the one with whom Brett doesn’t need to be strong and tough. Nolan wants him to close his eyes as he shampoos his hair. He wants to dry him with a fresh towel and bring him to bed. 

 

“Nolan? Sweetheart?”

 

“Here,” Nolan mumbles, snapping out of his daydream, “always here for you. I was just taking a few mental notes for when I actually get to get in a shower with you.” 

 

Again, Brett laughs. “Can’t wait, Noleyboy. Absolutely fucking cannot wait for it.”

 

They’re talking as Nolan enters his apartment, and they’re talking while he cooks dinner. They switch to video chat after Brett returns from the bathroom in only a towel wrapped around his waist, golden curls damp and messy. They’re talking as Nolan goes to bed, and they’re talking - at least Brett is - as he splatters his chest with cum, one hand tight around the base of his cock as he shudders through his orgasm. They’re talking when Nolan’s still catching his breath and Brett says he wants to lick him clean, and they’re talking when it strikes midnight. 

 

“It’s Saturday,” Nolan whispers. “Day 6.” 

 

“How did I get lucky enough to meet you?” Brett whispers back. 

 

They fight sleep as long as they can, forcing their eyes open again and again to make sure the other is real, smiling contently as they drift away, happiness so close that they can almost taste it. 

 

*

 

Day 6 before Brett will be home - Nolan works a double shift that feels like a triple shift, at least until a bouquet of sunflowers is delivered to the grocery store. With an aggressive blush creeping from his cheeks down his neck, he takes them to the little office, hiding from all the wide-eyes customers as he reads the little card that came along. While Nolan frankly wonders how Brett made it through high school with his handwriting, the message  _ ‘For my Sunshine’  _ is the sappiest, most ridiculous and loveliest thing anyone’s ever done for him. 

 

_ You are insane,  _ Nolan texts Brett before he gets back to work. 

 

Half an hour later, an elder lady he just wished a nice weekend turns back around before leaving. “Young man,” she says, the wrinkles around her eyes not dimming their shining light in the slightest. “You are a blessing. I’ve been getting my groceries from this store for more than twenty years, and never have I left it happier than I do on the days when I see you smile. You have a great life ahead of you.” 

 

Nolan doesn’t know what to answer other than a dumbfounded thank you, but there’s no point anyway in telling her how right she is, how life is great and not even sixteen hours of work can change that. That dreams do come true and sometimes, even after a rough start, everything works out perfectly. 

 

_ Just crazy about you,  _ is the answer from Brett Nolan finds on his phone during break. 

 

*

 

Five days left to go. Nolan snaps a picture of himself before he gets out of bed. He wouldn’t let anybody else but Brett see him that way, his hair as its absolute messiest, cheeks flushed as he pulls down the sheets and shows a little chest, knowing just how weak it will make Brett. 

 

“You can’t do this to me when I’m at work,” Brett presses out as soon as Nolan has answered the phone call that follows. 

 

“Good morning to you too,” he replies, unable to suppress a laugh. He imagines Brett being all flustered, trying to get work done but letting Nolan distract him. It does things to him, to know that he has that kind of power, that Brett, who is so tall and strong and skilled, so dedicated to his work and absolutely serious about it, is losing at least a bit of his composure because of Nolan. He’d never have dared to dream of it, but the undertone in Brett’s voice proves everything. 

 

“Nolan Holloway, you smug little asshole. Do you have any idea what I’d do to you if you were here right now?” 

 

“By all means, babe, tell me all about it,” Nolan laughs. He doesn’t have much time left before work either, but he’ll risk being late if it’s to listen to what Brett has in mind. 

 

“I’d drag you into the next half hidden corner and get on my knees for you. I’d suck your cock so good you’d have trouble keeping quiet.” 

 

“Oh god,” Nolan moans, deciding that getting dressed needs to wait a while longer, one hand slipping inside his briefs and wrapping around his dick that’s getting harder with every word Brett speaks. 

 

“I’d take you all the way down, sweetheart, make you feel so good. But I wouldn’t let you cum.” Nolan stops jerking his dick when Brett pauses, then resumes the stroking. “I’d build you up until you’d be so desperate, and then I’d make you turn around and bend over for me.”

 

“Fuck!” Nolan groans, almost shocked by the sound of himself, needy and so, so far gone. 

 

“You’d like that, Noleyboy?” Brett asks. “You’d like me to show you what you do to me when you tease me like this? How badly it makes me want you? How hard it gets me?” 

 

“I’d fucking love it.” 

 

“You’d be trying not to scream as I fuck you,” Brett grunts, clearly jerking off just like Nolan does. “You’d beg me to finish you. And I’d do so gladly as you asked.”

 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” 

 

“Me too, baby boy. Me too.” 

 

Nolan is still recovering,  panting heavily as Brett speaks again. “Well, now it is indeed a good morning.” 

 

*

 

On day four of Nolan’s inner countdown, stunningly beautiful red flowers are delivered to the grocery store. Not an entire bouquet this time, just two single ones, with blossoms almost as big as his hands, the petals bright red in the middle and darker at their edges. Nolan doesn’t know the first thing about flowers, not what they’re called or what they mean, except that he knows exactly what they mean when they come from Brett, which really is all that matters. The rest follows via text message. 

 

_ This one has always made me think of you. Amaryllis. Representing both splendid beauty and pride.  _

 

“How are you real?” Nolan whispers to himself and Brett’s picture that is the background on his phone. He’s known from the first moment that Brett is special, has accepted a long time ago that he will love him deeply and with everything he’s got, but feeling so clearly how much he’s being loved back brings a whole new emotion, a whole new level of wholesome happiness. 

 

*

 

“How’s your day been so far?” Nolan asks. He doesn’t have much time to talk, since he’s once again working, covering as many shifts as possible before Friday comes and he needs all the free time to make up for it, but he still won’t let anyone take the phone call at his spot in the storage room away from him. 

 

“Great,” Brett answers. “Exhausting, too, but great. We’re getting our shit done. There’s not much work left to do, and the boys have started packing their stuff. We’re pretty much excited to finally go home now. I mean, the others not as much as I am, obviously, but they don’t have the greatest treasure in the world waiting for them.” 

 

“Stop it,” Nolan mutters, although he knows by now Brett won’t, and he also doesn’t seriously want him to. 

 

“Never. What about you?” 

 

“So, I want to tell you something,” Nolan says, although he’s unsure about how to not sound weird about it, but he does want to share it with Brett, and so he’s honest. 

 

“Anything. Tell me.” 

 

“I was at my mom’s for lunch today,” Nolan explains, “and I told her about you.” 

 

He says it, simple as it is, and then waits for Brett’s reaction. With the special circumstances of their relationship so far, other people have never been an issue. Liam and Theo might have been involved in the whole story, and so does Derek, but none of them had to be informed about anything. Between phone calls and text messages, everything has pretty much stayed between the two of them, not as a secret, but as a thing that belonged to Nolan and Brett alone. They’re a thing, but are they boyfriends? Are they a couple that refers to another as such? 

 

“What did she say?” Brett wants to know after a few seconds of silence. 

 

“That she wants to meet you,” Nolan laughs. “I told her she has to wait though, because there’s no way I’m sharing you for at least this first weekend that you’ll be home.” 

 

“I guess I can live with that,” Brett responds, “if you must insist.” 

 

“I do indeed.” 

 

It becomes quiet again between them. Not in an awkward or unpleasant way, it’s just room for yet unspoken words to find their way. 

 

“I didn't plan it, you know,” Nolan finally says. “I mean, I didn’t go to see her to tell her about you. It’s just that we were talking and I- there’s just no way of telling her anything about my life without mentioning you. I’m so happy right now, and that’s just how it is. She wanted to know how things are going, wanted to know what I’m doing. And once I’d said your name out loud, I couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m sorry if it’s too soon, or awkward somehow, or whatever.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” 

 

“Uh, no?” 

 

“If you think I’m anything but proud and insanely happy to hear that, you are wrong. I don’t care for how long I’ve known you, or how much time we didn’t actually get to spend together. I couldn’t be more serious about you, Nolan. And if your mother wants to meet me, it’ll be my honor to shit my pants and try to make a decent first impression, I promise.” 

 

Nolan can’t stop himself from smiling as he hears those words. A grin breaks into a laugh. He’s so incredibly lucky. “We can talk about that once I’m ready to let you out of my bed again.” 

 

“Will that ever happen though?” 

 

“Better not make any promises.” 

 

“God, do I love you.” 

 

“God, do I love you back.” 

 

*

 

It’s Wednesday, 2 days left to go. Nolan is giddy and sleepless, the anticipation turning him into an absolute mess. He forgets things all the time and works much more slowly than usually, but nobody seems to even be mad at him, they just look at his face and sigh or roll their eyes. Derek mutters something about a  _ ‘love drunk idiot’ _ once, but they all leave him in peace. 

 

Everything is on Nolan’s side except time. That bitch passes as slowly as never before, minutes stretching into hours. 

 

“Jesus Christ, go home already,” Derek tells Nolan when theoretically, there’s still half an hour left until the end of his shift, not that he’s much use at the store at the moment anyway. 

 

That time, the flowers aren’t delivered to the store, but to Nolan’s home. He unlocks the door to the building and makes his way up to the second floor, thinking about calling Brett as soon as he’s had a shower, or maybe before? There’s a soft melody falling from his lips, because that’s the kind of person being in love is turning him into, and he doesn’t have any regrets even when neighbors look at him with a disturbed expression on their faces. 

 

He’s halfway up the last staircase when he spots the eternity of different colors. First, he thinks that Brett must have gone crazy, taking this little gifting him flowers thing to the next level, paying god knows how much for a shop to bring him what has to be their entire selection of different sorts.

 

Every color shade imaginable finds itself in front of the door to Nolan’s apartment, leaving almost no space to move between the top of the staircase and the beginning of the next one. 

 

When realization dawns on him, Nolan covers his mouth with one hand, his heart thumping loudly. Somehow, he’s familiar with the image presenting itself to him, just not inside his very own building. Last time he saw it, the flowers were almost hidden, blooming a little out of place by a construction site. 

 

_ You did not…,  _ Nolan texts Brett, and then,  _ YOU FUCKING DIDN’T!  _

 

_ I did,  _ comes the immediate reply, almost as if Brett’s been waiting for him to find his little surprise. 

 

_ They’re so beautiful.  _

 

Brett calls and Nolan sinks down with his back against the door, sitting on his doormat, not even caring anymore who’s going to hear him being stupidly enamoured with Brett freaking Talbot, god of romance and grand gestures.

 

“I want to tell you something, too,” Brett says, sounding slightly more shy than he usually does. 

 

“I already know,” Nolan answers. “Every day you didn’t see me, right?”

 

“How do you-” 

 

“Theo showed me,” Nolan explains. 

 

“I have only one more to plant now. You’ll never see it, I hope. It’ll just be there forever on its own while I’ll be in Beacon Hills with you.”

 

“I cannot believe you did this for me.” 

 

“I cannot believe you can’t believe it, Nolan. But I’ll make sure that you do. Soon. And from then on every damn day until we die.” 

 

*

 

On day 1 of the countdown, Nolan gets comfortable on his couch before he starts a video call with Brett, his guitar resting in his lap. 

 

“Our project got officially approved of,” Brett announces, blue eyes shining bright into the camera. The smile on his face makes Nolan’s insides all mushy until he almost doesn’t think he can find the needed concentration anymore.

 

“You’re coming home tomorrow,” he says, letting it sink in. A part of him will only be sure of it once he can feel Brett’s heart beating against his own, but all the other parts have come to the agreement that they’re fine, and soon to be more than fine, possibly for a long, long time. 

 

“I’m coming home to you.” 

 

They can’t stop smiling at each other. Every time Nolan picks up his guitar and strums the beginning of a melody with his fingers, his eyes fall back to Brett’s again and he can’t stop the grinning. 

 

“You need to not distract me with your face,” he demands. 

 

“Would you like me to distract you with another part of me? If so, which one do you want? I’m sure it can be arranged.” Brett wriggles his eyebrows. It looks absolutely ridiculous and cracks Nolan up even more. 

 

“Later, okay?” He replies. “First, I have something for you.” 

 

Brett says he can’t wait for it, but he also keeps drawing Nolan’s attention on himself. At the fifth or sixth attempt, Nolan finally gets to the part where he starts to sing. He’s played all sorts of melodies on his guitar for Brett before, sometimes even humming along, but he’s never really been  _ singing,  _ never seriously been using his voice to express what he feels, afraid that it wouldn’t come close enough. 

 

_ I’ll hold your hand and wipe your tears _

_ We’ll laugh until we run out of years _

 

Brett goes still and completely silent. Nolan closes his eyes and sings, trusting that Brett hears him, that he truly hears him, like he always has, but maybe it’s a little more important this time. 

 

_ ‘Cause no matter if our blue skies turn to gray _

_ There’s a ray of sun that’s bound to light our way _

_ And although the roads are rough _

_ I’ll get through it just because _

 

Nolan can feel the truth pressing out of him, putting all the longing that’s no longer tied to empty hopes into his voice, opening his eyes again, finding an expression on Brett’s face that’s familiar and new at the same time.

 

_ I’ll have my you _

_ You’ll have your me _

_ No matter what may come _

_ We’ll have our we and us _

 

The sounds of Nolan’s guitar fade a moment later than his voice. Brett sounds touched as he speaks, soft and at the same time rough, restless. 

 

“I gotta go, sweetheart,” he presses out. “I have things to pack. I’ll see you. It’s true this time. I’ll actually see you.” 

 

He’s gone before Nolan gets the chance to say something, leaving him confused, clueless, almost a little hurt. Vulnerable and open, looking down at the instrument in his hands, unsure of what’s happening. He looks around, sitting in the middle of dozens of different kinds of flowers, almost painfully bright in the apartment that he doesn’t want to be alone in anymore. 

 

For minutes, time slows down and Nolan’s heart threatens to break, but he won’t let it. 

 

He’s waiting, tired of it, but having become too good at it to give up just yet. 

 

He’s waiting, for a something that doesn’t exist in words, but in feelings filling him up inside. 

 

He’s waiting, in uncertainty. 

 

Until the doorbell rings, and the waiting is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Nolan sings in the end is [We And Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kOMCTtMoUk) by Moira Dela Torre. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm so sorry. (I'm not.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to inform you that this is now definitely, truly, with 100% certaintly the final, the absolute last chapter of this fic. 
> 
> Special thanks to Alicia, who made a special encounter I had at work a fic, and then a multichapter, and then.. you know.. this. 
> 
> Thank you Francis and Autumn, for the beautiful art you created for this. I still can't believe you would do that. 
> 
> Of course, the biggest thank you goes to the man who changed my life. Dear random construction worker who turned up in front of my workplace last summer looking too hot to be legal, you have inspired me beyond belief. I will never forget your arms. Amen.

The waiting is over. Finally. Brett can’t remember ever feeling the same way he feels as he watches out through the window of Theo’s truck, his gaze wandering across the front yards of Beacon Hills while his entire body is bouncing, his heart so loud in his own ears that it drowns out whatever Liam’s saying as he leans back from his spot in the passenger’s seat.

 

Brett has never heard the song Nolan just sang for him before, but it will be his favorite from now on and forever. He didn’t plan it, not like this, not on Thursday evening when they were still supposed to be in Roseville, not with empty hands and covered in sweat and dirt, but his friends offered to pack up the truck and leave as soon as their work was declared finished, and there wasn’t even a second of hesitation. He has a whole life ahead of him, with all the time to have showers and be considerate, but he’s not going to pretend like he cares about anything else but Nolan right now. 

 

Nolan, who sounded like tears when he called to thank him for the flowers. Nolan, who somehow knows him so well that it’s almost scary. Nolan, who has the voice of an angel and the heart of one, too. Nolan, who makes him feel like he’s coming home although the driveway Theo parks his truck in is entirely unfamiliar to Brett. Nolan, the only thing he’s been waiting for. Nolan, his sweetheart. 

 

It’s not like when Nolan came to see him in Roseville, not at all. Brett’s hands are shaky and his knees weak just like they were back then, his heart wild. But he isn’t scared. What they have isn’t as fragile anymore. Brett’s finger presses the bell with purpose and over the flushed cheeks on Nolan’s face spreads a wide smile as he sees him, and the insecurity they once felt has no place between them this time. 

 

There’s a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh and a squeak, blond floppy hair flying and a body crashing into his own, arms wrapping around Brett’s neck, a cute little freckled nose nuzzling against it. 

 

Who would have thought, that this is the way it finally goes, with Liam and Theo standing in the driveway and cheering them on as Brett grabs Nolan by the hips and picks him up, legs wrapping around his middle as he spins them around a few times, the air he breathes in finally tasting just right, his whole word being in his hands after all. 

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Brett whispers against the softness of Nolan’s hair. It’s their moment, not because they’re together, but because they’re finally together under their own conditions, with enough time to make everything work out. 

 

Nolan doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply exhales into the crook of Brett’s neck before he raises his head, taking Brett’s face in both hands and kissing him, softly for an entirety of two seconds, pressing their lips together gently. The second kiss is deep and passionate, with hands pulling Brett closer and a tongue licking over his lips until he parts them. 

 

When Nolan tightens his legs around Brett’s waist and practically grinds down against him, he can’t suppress a moan and presses Nolan against the nearest wall, only pulling away from his lips so he can attack the delicate skin on his neck instead until Nolan squirms in his hold. Brett can’t imagine ever getting enough of it, the high he gets out of making Nolan feel good. It makes him forget that they’re still outside and not alone for a moment until Nolan raises his voice, throaty and breathless. 

 

“I swear to god, I’d ask you guys inside for a beer or something,” he mumbles, face turned away from Brett and towards where Liam and Theo must still be standing. 

 

“We’re not really into watching, so I think we’re fine here,” Liam answers while Theo huffs, “Speak for yourself.” 

 

“Thanks guys,” Brett says without looking back at them, “you’re the best.” And then he pushes the door open and carries Nolan inside, stumbling up the stairs as far as Nolan tells him to, shaking his head vehemently when the other boy offers to walk on his own, although they almost fall one time, because Nolan’s lips on his racing pulse can be rather distracting.

 

“Sorry for that,” Brett apologizes when Nolan wipes some dirt from his collarbone, “this is how badly I wanted to see you. They said we were free to go and I didn’t have a minute to spare for a shower. Not my greatest decision, in retrospect.” 

 

“Nonsense,” Nolan smiles, sliding off of Brett gracefully as soon as they’re inside the apartment, pushing the door shut behind him. It looks a little ridiculous, the little place filled with all of Brett’s flowers, like a bright and colorful meadow in the middle of the living space. “Actually, I think this is great. Show me your hands.” 

 

Brett doesn’t really understand, but he raises his hands nonetheless, palms flat and his fingers spread, waiting for Nolan to step closer until their breaths are mixing, pressing his own, smaller and softer hands against them. Brett follows Nolan’s gaze, from left to right, looking at their hands together, Brett’s skin tanned where Nolan’s is so pale that the blue of his veins shimmers through it, his palms calloused from work while Nolan’s hands are damaged from playing the guitar at the very tips of his fingers. They stand still for a moment, breathing, letting their hands fit together like puzzle pieces. Like in the whole world, out of seven billion people, there’s always been this one person that’s exactly right. 

 

Brett squeezes tight when their hands are joined, fingers tangled together like he’s known they’re meant to be from the moment on that he first saw Nolan, and then he pulls him closer and connects their lips, ducking his head while Nolan gets on his tippy toes. 

 

“See, now you finally have that extra pair of hands to get properly cleaned up,” Nolan whispers against his lips, interrupting their kisses by cracking Brett up into laughter. 

 

“You’re right,” he whispers back, “we did plan to take a shower together at some point.” 

 

“And since I’m not letting you into my bed like this,” Nolan says, his voice slightly lower now, “that point is going to have to be now.” 

 

“Lead the way,” Brett replies, because god knows they’ve waited long enough already, always putting their hopes in the future, always making plans for later, whispering promises that were sweet and bitter at the same time, but now the future is here, literally right in front of Brett, and he’s holding it in his hands, following it down a narrow hallway and into a small but bright bathroom. Nolan glances back at him as he moves, grinning, never letting go of him. Brett smiles back, doesn’t know whether the corners of his mouth will ever come back down again. 

 

Nolan reaches inside the shower cabin and turns the water on, then pulls two towels out from a little cabinet and sets them onto the edge of a sink. He lets go of Brett’s hands only for the sake of falling against his chest, arms closing around him. There are the kind of fantasies that Brett has been having for weeks and months at this point, some of them sweet and many of them dirty, but then there are things that Nolan surprises him with, like a fully clothed two-minute-hug in the middle of his bathroom, with nothing but the water making any noises, and those things seem just as important to Brett. 

 

“Now strip,” Nolan says with a grin when he pulls back, standing leaned back against the sink with a dark shimmer in his eyes as Brett gets rid of his once white, now partly grey and partly brown shirt at first, kicking his shoes off and teasing Nolan for a moment by playing with the button on his pants but not opening it, drinking in the lustful expression on Nolan’s face, the faint flush creeping down his neck and the dent forming at the front of his pants. 

 

Against all of his instincts to just rip his clothes off and then Nolan’s as well, Brett pulls down his pants slowly, very much aware of how Nolan’s eyes are tracing his hands down his legs. Unlike Liam, Brett has never been a huge fan of working out in the open without a shirt on, simply because he isn’t a piece of meat to be stared at, but nothing about Nolan’s eyes on him feels the same way. The looks aren’t objectifying, they’re admiring, almost praising. Nolan swallows and stands back, giving him space and time to show just how much he wants to as fast as he’s ready, and it makes goosebumps rise on Brett’s skin.

 

Discarding his pants and socks, Brett is left in only his underwear, the impact Nolan’s touches and kisses and the sheer sexual tension that fills the little bathroom are having on him clearly visible through it. Nolan doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, at least not with his words. Brett searches for his eyes, and they’re on him immediately, up on his face, pale blue and soft and loving. 

 

Nolan gives him a smile, and Brett smiles back. Nolan’s smile breaks into a laugh, and Brett laughs just the same as he pulls his briefs down and gets fully naked. Nolan’s laugh dies, which is for once a great thing, seeing how his eyes are trained on Brett’s hard cock while he licks his lips, the cute little fangs poking out. 

 

As good as it feels, to have Nolan look at him like that, like he’s the only man in the world, or at least the only one worth looking at, the much stronger urge even than letting Nolan consume him is consuming Nolan himself, and there are entirely too many pieces of clothing currently in his way. 

 

“God, you look so perfect,” Nolan sighs as Brett closes the distance between them, but if he thinks Brett’s the one looking perfect, he should maybe take a look in the mirror sometime, because nothing and nobody in the entire universe has ever been as precious and beautiful as Nolan Holloway with the long, golden lashes surrounding his gorgeous blue eyes and the freckles splattered over his cheekbones. With the almost fae-like features and the fair skin, the waves of blond hair inviting Brett to bury his hands in it. The embodiment of human perfection, and nothing less than exactly that. 

 

Brett reaches for Nolan’s face and begins stroking it with his thumbs as softly as he can. He’s hard and leaking, but he’s not going to rush anything, not now that time doesn’t matter anymore. “You don’t even know what you’re saying, sweetheart,” Brett whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to Nolan’s forehead, and then the tip of his nose. One cheek, then the other, the corner of his mouth and then his lips. “You own my heart,” he adds, letting his hands drop, one to rest over Nolan’s heart, and one to slide beneath his shirt, feeling for the smooth skin and the light fuzz of hair on his belly. 

 

Nolan melts against him, holding onto Brett’s shoulders as if his life depends on it. Brett likes this, the idea that he’s needed, wanted. He covers all of Nolan’s body in kisses, from his jaw down his throat and over his collarbones. Nolan raises his arms to help him get rid of his shirt, one hand tugging at Brett’s hair as he sinks down and continues his ministrations, holding Nolan steady with his hands on his hips as he nibbles his way across and down his torso, earning a whimper as he comes across a nipple, pink and hard and responsive to his sucking. 

 

Nolan is trembling and squirming by the time Brett follows the happy trail down his lower belly with his tongue, and by the time he nuzzles against the strained front of Nolan’s pants, there’s a damp spot there. Brett cups Nolan’s dick with his hand and gives it a rub, feeling himself react in almost the same ways Nolan does. He pulls his pants down just a little, just enough to get access to Nolan’s hip bones, kissing them, feeling Nolan shudder as he lets his teeth graze the skin carefully, sucking a bruise between the left hip and Nolan’s crotch that makes Nolan moan as he touches it with his fingers. 

 

“You do realize that I won’t make it into the shower if you keep going like this?” Nolan asks, but does Brett really mind? Hardly. He’s going to take Nolan apart on every damn spot in this apartment, who cares whether they start in the shower or on the bathroom rug? 

 

He looks up and finds Nolan’s eyes hazy, his lips swollen and parted. It must be the best thing he’s ever seen, although he definitely remembers thinking the same thing one or two times before. Only Nolan… 

 

“We’ve got all the time now, Noleyboy,” Brett says as he kneels in front of him, hands tugging at his pants and underwear at the same time. “We play by our own rules now.” And with that, he frees Nolan’s cock, not surprised by its length and thickness anymore but still excited, licking his lips as he pulls the pants down and helps Nolan to step out of them. Nolan moans as Brett sucks his balls into his mouth, his thighs quivering. He licks along the length of Nolan’s dick and sucks the head between his lips, tasting him. Nolan throws his head back and puts more of his weight against the sink, his legs weak and wobbly, which gives Brett and idea. 

 

He can tell Nolan is pretty much out of it already, eyes clenched shut and his grip tight in Brett’s hair, a steady line of muttered curses and groans falling from his lips. He doesn’t resist when Brett lifts one of his legs up and lies it over his shoulder, releasing Nolan’s cock from his mouth with a pop and sucking the flesh of his inner thigh instead. Nolan doesn’t resist either when Brett’s hands lift him up by the hips and push his ass on top of the washbasin until his feet are off the ground and both thighs resting on Brett’s shoulders, Brett’s face pressed between the cheeks of his ass, tongue flicking over his hole. 

 

He’s got Nolan right where he wants him in a matter of mere moments, a moaning mess holding onto him while losing it completely, ass clenching as Brett pushes his tongue inside. Brett can barely resist touching himself, but he does, if only because he needs both hands to keep Nolan from falling down as he writhes and shakes. Brett knows exactly what he’s doing as he rubs his face against Nolan, the beard stubble covering his jaws leaving the sensitive cheeks red and Nolan panting heavily. He likes the way he can barely hold Nolan in place as he fucks him with his tongue, until a shudder goes through the other boy and his thighs close around Brett’s head while deep moans turn into barely more than desperate sobs. 

 

A few strokes of Nolan’s cock is all it takes to make him come and coat Brett’s hand as well as his own stomach, trembling through his orgasm before he opens his legs and pulls Brett up, kissing him hungrily. 

 

“Looks like you’re pretty dirty yourself now,” Brett teases, “I think it’s time for that shower we haven’t had for entirely too long.” 

 

“Oh, agreed,” Nolan nods, allowing Brett to pull him down onto his feet again, kissing and biting his lips before they step inside the shower cabin and under the hot water jet. 

 

They laugh and giggle as they try to push another under the water, their hair turning dark at their skin soft. Nolan looks almost otherworldly as the drops run down his neck and shoulders, and although Brett is still hard and needy, there’s an innocence to the whole thing that matters even more than the possibility to have sex right now. He lets Nolan touch him, giving himself into caring hands completely. He stands still as soap is being rubbed into his skin, only lifts an arm or a leg to help Nolan, turns around without being told to, closes his eyes for the sake of  _ feeling.  _

 

What he feels is the kind of thing that’s only the best because it’s with Nolan, his nudity making him free rather than exposed, the lack of space in the shower cabin making him feel embraced rather than trapped. He tips his head back and lets Nolan wet his hair, almost starts purring like a cat as shampoo that smells like Nolan is massaged into it. He waits patiently until Nolan is done styling his shampoo hair into ridiculous looking spikes and breaking out into giggles, and then he flattens the atrocity to gather up enough shampoo so he can wash Nolan’s hair as well. 

 

They play a little guessing game, drawing signs and letters into the other’s back, except that Nolan’s totally cheating, making up words as he goes, never letting Brett guess anything correctly, laughing and laughing and then biting his shoulder until Brett thinks he’s probably asking for it, so he whirls around and pins Nolan against the tiled wall, one hand wrapped around his throat just the way he knows Nolan likes it, watching his eyes go from playful to lustful, knowing that he’s growing fully hard again without having to look down for confirmation. 

 

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you, Noleyboy?” He asks, because the talking is something that he can trust to do it for Nolan too. “You look so sweet, so innocent, but oh how far from innocent you can be. Always looking at me like that. Always saying the right kind of things to make me think dirty. Such a naughty boy, aren’t you?” 

 

Nolan doesn’t even stop the grinning, reaching for Brett’s cock despite being pinned against the wall. Squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over the head while dragging his tongue across his lips suggestively. From left to right over the upper lip, from right to left the lower one, making Brett’s knees go a little weak. He resists the urge until he can’t stand it anymore, then surges forward to kiss Nolan, moaning into his mouth as the hand wrapped around his cock gains better access, setting a steady rhythm and jerking him slowly.  

 

Brett forgets to further display his dominance for a moment as Nolan builds him up so high that he’s left gasping, his weight leaning against the other boy, the hand around his throat more holding on than holding tight, giving Nolan the opportunity to spin them around and press Brett with his back against the other wall, foam and water running down along his spine as he lets the water rinse his hair while sinking down on his knees. 

 

“You’re right,” Nolan says, his lips so close to the tip of Brett’s dick that they’re almost touching him, “I can be a pretty naughty boy. Especially when hot construction workers show up right outside of my workplace on a hot summer day. And then look at me like you did, Brett. Like you wanted to hunt me down.” He gives a smile and then swallows Brett down without a warning, sucking hard before he pulls off again, turning the fire inside Brett’s stomach to blue flames. 

 

“Do you remember that day when I brought you drinks outside?” 

 

As if he’d ever forget. 

 

“I could feel your eyes on me so clearly when I walked back in, I could barely focus. I was wishing so bad for you to follow me.” 

 

“And do what with you?” Brett wants to know, stroking a wet strand of hair out of Nolan’s face. 

 

The question earns a mischievous smirk. “Whatever you wanted to,” Nolan answers. “Run after me and hold me down. Fuck me right where you caught me.” He speaks with his mouth directly at Brett’s cock, his moving lips and breath teasing it before his tongue sweeps over the slit to collect the precome leaking from him. Nolan swallows with a blissed out expression on his face, just as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

 

“I would have done just that,” Brett presses out, barely able to focus on his words as the heat of Nolan’s mouth engulfs him once more. “If only I’d known you wanted me to, sweetheart.” The fantasy sounds exciting and dirty. He can’t decide whether he wants Nolan to keep talking or keep sucking, but then the other boy pulls away entirely just when Brett was ready to get lost in his pleasure. 

 

“Now you do,” Nolan whispers, and after a wink and a quick peck on his lips, the shower cabin opens, and Nolan disappears into a cloud of hot steam before he can catch up with what’s happening, watching dumbfounded as the most perfectly shaped ass in the whole world vanishes from his sight. 

 

Brett’s first instinct is a pang of  _ oh no, _ but then there’s excitement flaring up inside him. So Nolan likes to play games, apparently. Brett isn’t going to complain about that. He would have loved to get his dick sucked under the shower and watch Nolan swallow his load, but he can’t deny that he loves it even more that Nolan manages to surprise him. Not exactly thoroughly, Brett rinses his hair from the remaining shampoo before he turns off the water, stepping out of the shower and letting the towel stay exactly where it is. 

 

In all his naked and wet glory, he walks down the hallway, peaking around the corner and into the living room, where Nolan is standing in the middle of an abundance of flowers, currently drying his hair. If Brett wasn’t so incredibly hard and Nolan’s ass not so beautifully presented to him, he might take a few more moments to savour the image. Instead, he enters the room and lets his eyes wander. If Nolan wants to run from him, he’s gladly going to play the predator, eyeing him up and down, finding the most deliciously looking spots he wants to sink his teeth in. 

 

“There you are,” Nolan says. “Thought you got lost somewhere.” He sounds daring, looking back over his shoulder, letting the muscles in his butt play a dangerous game with Brett’s hungry eyes. 

 

“Oh Noleyboy,” Brett replies, slowly moving closer, “you can’t run from me. Not anymore.” 

 

“Are you sure about that?” Nolan asks, and then he hops over a bunch of flowers just before Brett can grab him, sprinting into the kitchen, giggling, Brett following after, his eyes fixated on a pair of prettily jiggling globes of an ass that makes his mouth water and his cock cry for attention. 

 

Nolan throws his towel back at him to distract him for a second, and so he manages to escape the kitchen before Brett catches him, running down the hallway and towards the only room left they haven’t been in yet, presumably Nolan’s bedroom. Brett is fast enough to catch up before he reaches the door, but he waits until Nolan is inside, wrapping an arm around Nolan’s middle and pulling him back, pressing him against the door from the inside of the room, Nolan’s heaving chest against the wood and Brett’s cock rubbing through the crack of his ass. 

 

“Look what we’ve got here,” he says, giving it his best sultry tone, his lips grazing the shell of Nolan’s ear as he speaks. One hand trails down along Nolan’s spine until it hovers just above his ass that’s stuck out teasingly. Brett can’t resist a smack to the flesh, drawing a loud moan from Nolan’s lips. 

 

“You can run from me, baby boy,” he continues to speak, “but you’re mine now. Say it.” 

 

“I’m yours,” Nolan confirms, nodding eagerly, pressing back against Brett, seeking contact. 

 

“Good,” Brett smiles, “hands against the door and tell me where you’ve got lube.” 

 

Nolan obeys, not without a throaty moan, putting his palms flat against the door and his feet a little further apart. “There’s a box beneath the bed,” he says, almost shyly all of a sudden, which surprises Brett a little, at least until he’s found what he’s looking for, opening a dark blue box and finding that there’s a little more than just lube inside it. 

 

“Naughty boy indeed,” Brett mutters under his breath, looking at the little collection of toys presenting itself in front of him. 

 

“What? The weeks without you were long, okay?” 

 

“Oh baby boy,” Brett laughs, “I’m not complaining at all.” He decides to bring the whole box back to where Nolan is standing with his palms pressed against the door and a deep blush on his cheeks. Just a minute ago, Brett couldn’t wait to be inside Nolan, but now it almost seems like he wants to drag the whole thing out for a little longer. 

 

“What’s your favorite?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You heard me, Nolan.” Brett is kneeling right behind him, straight up biting Nolan’s ass when he doesn’t get an answer right away. 

 

Nolan’s forehead sinks against the door before he speaks, quietly, his nerves clearly showing. “The little green one. With the feathery end.” 

 

Brett rewards Nolan for his answer with a kiss to his lower back before he turns to the box that’s sitting on the carpet next to him, his fingers twitching as his hand hovers above the different toys until his eyes have spotted the one Nolan must be talking about, a light green butt plug, the tip thinner than a human finger, the base wider, with soft, silvery feathers and a few short leather straps at the end. 

 

“What do you like about it?” Brett asks, holding it in one hand while using the other to stroke up and down Nolan’s leg. 

 

“It tickles. And teases. It’s not enough to fill me up, just to stretch me a little. It doesn’t satisfy me, just drives me insane.” 

 

“Sounds perfect,” Brett decides. Nolan is not the only one who can play games after all. “Are you going to wear it for me?” 

 

Nolan whimpers, spreading his legs a little further, showing off his hole. 

 

“Is that a yes?” 

 

“As if I could ever say no to you.” 

 

With a pleased chuckle, Brett returns his attention to Nolan’s ass, taking the little toy between his lips to hold it and suck it wet while his fingers leave white indentations on the reddened cheeks, watching as a shudder goes through Nolan’s whole body as Brett’s finger touches his entrance. The heavy cock hanging between Nolan’s legs is literally dripping. 

 

Brett slicks up his fingers with lube and spreads it between Nolan’s cheeks, rubbing it over the puckered hole with cautious pressure until Nolan presses back and the rim catches on the tip of his finger, giving way easily. A pleased sigh comes from Nolan, who arches his back to chase the satisfaction of Brett’s touch. He pushes his finger inside and out a few times, plays around and adds a second one, waits until they glide smoothly, then pulls away, observing with fascination how Nolan strains after him. He’s going to ruin that boy, he knows it. 

 

The plug slides in easily, Nolan’s hole swallowing it. It looks pretty, the silver feathers and green leather straps in the middle of Nolan’s perfect ass. Another smack to the right cheek draws another loud moan from the boy, and Brett sits back to admire the piece of art that Nolan is as he strokes his cock.

 

“Step back from the door,” he commands, almost dying on the inside when Nolan moves. “Does it feel good?” 

 

“Amazing.” 

 

“I love seeing you like this,” Brett says, meeting Nolan’s eyes as he looks back over his shoulder. “You look like every wet dream I’ve ever had.” Slowly, he reaches out and opens the door again, because it’s hard enough already not to bend Nolan over and take him right on the spot. 

 

Nolan raises one eyebrow in question. Brett tilts his head first and then gets up from the carpet and onto his feet, stepping behind Nolan until the feathers are brushing against his thigh and the base of his cock. He leans forward and Nolan leans back into him, baring his throat. Brett can’t resist a bite, not hard but still leaving a mark behind. Then he brings his lips to Nolan’s ear and whispers, “Run.” 

 

He waits and watches as Nolan rushes down the hallway, green and silver in the middle of naked perfection all that he can see. His ears are strained to listen when Nolan stops and stills somewhere else in the apartment, nothing but puffed breaths and his own heartbeat audible, then he grabs a condom from Nolan’s play box and stalks after him. 

 

Brett allows Nolan to slip from his arms in the kitchen, and to merely dodge him in the living room, watching the way the other boy’s body moves, his face telling Brett every time the toy moves inside him to push him higher. He holds Nolan in his arms and then lets him struggle free again, but never for longer than a moment before he’s got him pressed against his chest again. 

 

Nolan puts up a fight against his hands around the boy’s wrists, squirming away from his biting teeth but not really. For every part of him that pulls away, another one rubs against Brett greedily, until he’s finally had enough and simply picks Nolan up, kissing him deeply, swallowing his moans as he tugs and pushes at the plug with one finger. 

 

Nolan holds himself up by Brett’s shoulders, his legs once again wrapped around his middle, rutting against him, their dicks rubbing against each other between their bodies. Fuck, Brett thinks, that boy really knows how to get what he wants. 

 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, making Nolan look up into his eyes, giving him the same smile that he’s fallen in love with countless times by now. “I want you on that couch. Hands and knees.” 

 

“God, are you finally going to fuck me?” Nolan scrambles to his feet as soon as Brett sets him down, moving around the red couch Brett knows from god knows how many video calls they’ve had. With all the flowers Brett planted for all the days they’ve been apart surrounding it, the scene is almost dream-like, Nolan in the middle on all fours, arching his back for him. It’s reality. Brett takes a moment to tell himself that, to remind himself that the dreams are over now. 

 

He rolls down the condom he brought with him and kneels behind Nolan, kissing a line down along his spine and then across his ass, rubbing his face all over it, watching as precome dribbles down into the couch as he moves the plug around, Nolan’s groans muffled by a pillow. 

 

Everything is perfect. Everything has been perfect all along, every bit of shyness and insecurity, every minute of waiting. Every question yet remaining to be answered, every first experience yet to be had. Every fantasy and every phone call. Every night apart and every secret flower. Brett wouldn’t have wanted for any of it to go differently than exactly the way it did, not really. He sighs as he thinks of the story he’ll one day tell his grandchildren, about a particularly hot summer and a special work project in front of a grocery store. And then he looks down at Nolan and concentrates on the warmth in his hands. It’s not a story, he realizes. This is their life now. 

 

“I love you,” Brett whispers as he leans forward, kissing Nolan’s back as he slowly pulls at the toy in his ass until he can put it aside, lining his cock up instead. 

 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says as he sinks in, feeling for the very first time how hot and tight Nolan is around him, almost shooting it the moment he’s bottomed out and Nolan starts a series of moans that disappear into the pillow he’s got between his teeth. 

 

“You’re mine,” he presses out with the first hard thrust inside him. “My sweetheart.” Another thrust follows, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the apartment. “My Noleyboy.” Nolan cries out as Brett buries himself inside him again, knowing exactly what he can do with a few hard, purposeful thrusts. 

 

He pulls Nolan up until he’s flush against his chest and Brett can bury his face against his neck as he fucks him, his arms tight around Nolan’s writhing body, catching him before another thrust can push him over. Nolan’s hands wander across his arms, sliding over his hands until their fingers are entangled. 

 

“Kiss me,” Nolan begs, his request breathless and weak. 

 

Brett is too far gone to stop his hips from snapping forward again and again, even as they’re softly kissing, Nolan’s hands squeezing Brett’s before his breathing becomes erratic and the twitches of his body more uncontrollable, before his head falls back onto Brett’s shoulder with a groan and he comes undone, splattering his chest and their arms with come, clenching tight around Brett and pushing him right to the edge of an orgasm, sending him barreling over with a barely audible “I. Love. You.” 

 

“I love you too,” Brett whispers as he pulls Nolan down into a lying position half on top of himself, pressing a kiss to his forehead, just like he’s always wanted to.

 

***

 

They lie naked on the carpet in Nolan’s living room. It’s dark outside and warm in their hearts. Brett plucks a pale blue flower from one of the bouquets surrounding them, breaking off the stem and tugging it behind Nolan’s ear. He smiles contently and kisses Nolan’s nose.

 

Nolan reaches for his hand in return and holds it, raising one finger of the other hand to trace a vein down Brett’s forearm and across the back of his hand.  

 

“I love the things you can do with those,” Nolan says quietly. “The hard work and the creating, bringing your own visions to life. That’s so cool. And then the flowers. I was obsessed with your hands from day one, but I had no idea what they could do.” 

 

“Like this here?” Brett asks, closing his fingers around Nolan’s. 

 

“No, like building things. Useful things, pretty things.” 

 

“I like this better though,” Brett smiles at him. 

 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

 

“I’m in love, Nolan.” 

 

Nolan rolls his eyes but stops arguing, shutting Brett up with kisses instead. They get lost in each other, again and again and again. Nolan makes sandwiches when it’s almost morning again. They fall asleep on the carpet and Brett carries Nolan to bed later. They make love, slowly and carefully, Nolan slotted between Brett’s legs and their lips not leaving another for even a second. They sleep and wake, kiss and touch, share stories and flat jokes. 

 

Nolan runs a bath on Friday, but there’s come in the water before they get to the actual point of it, and so they shower again. It turns out that Brett is way better at making pancakes than Nolan is, and it turns out that Nolan’s kitchen counter works excellently for a post-breakfast-quickie. Brett looks more than ridiculous in a pair of Nolan’s sweatpants, and neither of them can say which movie it was that they watched on Netflix. 

 

Nolan gives the best blowjobs in the history of humankind, Brett is absolutely sure of it, and Brett insists that Nolan shows him all of the other toys he’s got in his little box. The neighbors can probably hear him as he screams Nolan’s name in the middle of the night between Friday and Saturday. Unlike the flowers, Nolan’s beauty hasn’t faded by Sunday morning, and Brett still can’t keep his hands to himself. 

 

“Hey, boyfriend?” Nolan asks as he returns to bed after cracking a window open, holding his phone in one hand. 

 

“Yes, boyfriend?” Brett asks back, pulling him down in his arms so he can kiss him again. 

 

“I know I said I wouldn’t let you out of my bed for a while, but how does dinner sound to you?” 

 

“You mean, you and me as in a date?”

 

“If you want that,” Nolan says, his cheeks tinted pink.

 

“Sounds lovely.” Brett pulls Nolan on top of him and Nolan sighs contently as their bodies fall together like puzzle pieces. Whatever awaits them, they’ll be good. They didn’t start with a date and for some weeks, everything seemed to go against all plans they were trying to have, but all has been worth it in the end. Because  _ ‘sounds lovely’  _ reminds him of something, Brett goes looking for Nolan’s guitar and makes him play another song. 

 

***

 

They sit on Nolan’s bed naked, the messed up sheets barely covering any parts of their bodies. The blond mop on Nolan’s head has developed a life on its own, and nothing could be more perfect as he sits up straight, placing the guitar in his lap and strumming the chords a few times, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. He plays around a little before he finds a melody he settles on. Brett watches with absolute fascination as his Nolan turns into a slightly different person, or maybe more into himself. 

 

_ I think the universe is on my side _

_ Heaven and earth have finally aligned _

_ Days are good and that’s the way it should be  _

 

Brett couldn’t agree more to the words coming from Nolan’s lips, except he could never sing them in the same breath-taking way, sweet and quiet, like he’s given a concert only for him, and he can watch Nolan’s fingers playing the instrument like they’ve never done anything else, the lines falling naturally, as if he’s speaking his truth through the music. 

 

_ You sprinkle stardust on my pillow case _

_ It’s like a moon beam brushed across my face _

_ Nights are good and that’s the way it should be _

 

Everything’s good, because  _ they  _ are good. Nolan and Brett, Brett and Nolan, together at last and at the beginning of a shared life full of dates and shower shenanigans and whatever the hell they can think of to make each other happy. 

 

_ And I see colors in a different way _

_ You wake what doesn’t matter fade to grey _

_ Life is good and that’s the way it should be _

 

_ Did you see that shooting star tonight? _

_ Were you dazzled by the same constellation? _

_ Did you and Jupiter conspire to get me? _

_ I think you and the Moon and Neptune got it right _

_ Cause now I’m shining bright, so bright _

 

***

 

“There goes our date,” Brett mutters against Nolan’s temple before they quickly throw on some clothes, getting back to the living room that Liam and Theo are currently invading. 

 

“We’re going to have countless dates,” Nolan smiles at him. They kiss before they leave the bedroom, joining their friends on the red couch for a couple of beers, holding each other’s hand tightly, because that’s who they are now. 

 

“Good news,” Liam declares cheerily, opening a beer for himself and taking a long gulp, looking around for confirmation that all eyes are on him. What a drama queen. Brett has had his suspicions that attention is secretly the only reason why Liam keeps falling into holes.

 

“What? Spill it.” Apparently, not even Theo knows what his boyfriend is talking about. 

 

“So, since we are the greatest at our job, and I mean literally the greatest in all of the United States-” Brett can only roll his eyes. He knows his best friend well enough to be certain that what’s going to follow can only be complete and utter bullshit. “- and our project in Roseville was an extraordinary success.” He pauses, looking each and every one of the other three in the eyes. “We’ve been asked to do another one like that. And it’s in - wait for it, you’re not going to believe this - New York City!” 

 

While Liam looks like he’s waiting for everyone to share his excitement, Brett can hear Nolan gasping and pulling his hand closer. “You’re not serious,” the boy pressed to his side whispers. “You guys can’t do this to me.” 

 

Brett puts an arm around Nolan’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “No, he’s not,” he says, looking straight into Liam’s eyes as he calls him out. “He’s just playing with us.” 

 

Other than Theo rolling his eyes and taking a sip from his beer, nothing happens for a moment before Liam bursts out in laughter, as always the biggest fan of his own jokes. He’s still holding his stomach as he calms down and asks, “Too soon?” 

 

Brett throws a pillow after him. “Never would still be too soon, you little asshole.” He can’t be mad though, not with Nolan snuggling up against him. 

 

“Hey should I order pizza?” 

 

It’s not the date they thought they could finally have, but maybe it fits their story better anyway, a night with all four of them crammed into Nolan’s tiny apartment, drinking beer and eating pizza, telling jokes on Brett’s expense that he doesn’t really mind. His friends and his boyfriend, like it’s always been that way, like his hands have always been just for holding Nolan’s in them. 

 

Life is good, and that’s the way it should be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Nolan sings this time is [Bright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E) by Echosmith.
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> I hope you enjoyed this chapter as all the ones before! Thanks for reading, this story has been a blast!


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